London-based quintet the Last Dinner Party first came together during the height of the pandemic lockdown, making it a struggle to rehearse or even think about playing live. As soon as they were able, the group played their first show in November 2021. Now they have nearly 150 performances under their belts — or, rather, their long, flowing gothic-inspired dresses.

Since then, the Last Dinner Party’s shows have earned a reputation for being intensely energetic, theatric, and captivating. They more than lived up to that reputation at First Avenue Thursday night. The sold-out all-ages event marked the first time the band made up of women and non-binary members indulged the Twin Cities with their hedonistic presence. The crowd graciously welcomed them with open arms.

Joining the group for their first North American tour is Miss Grit, the “cyborg” alter ego of New York-based electronic musician Margaret Sohn. Sohn took the stage solo with only a guitar and effects pedal board accompanying them. As they began playing, a projection of geometric patterns cast harsh shadows across their face and body.

Sohn’s subtle voice and rhythmic guitar work set an initially calm tone before a throbbing, bass-heavy backing track kicked in to destroy any notion of delicacy. For the next 30 minutes, that backing track blasted out every available decibel through First Avenue’s recently upgraded sound system. The bass made my eyeballs vibrate in their sockets at a few points. As the set progressed, Sohn’s densely layered vocals and pulsating backing track created such a massive sound that you’d swear there was a full band onstage.

At times, the bass completely overpowered Sohn’s vocals. But their fuzzed-out guitar licks always managed to cut through and punctuate each song. Miss Grit's melancholic, borderline anti-stage presence starkly contrasted the rambunctious display to come, but the crowd still ate it up.

Then the lights dimmed, and the opening orchestral title track off of the Last Dinner Party’s debut album, Prelude to Ecstasy, rang out over the house speakers. Guitarists Emily Roberts (or “Emily F*cking Roberts” as she’d often be referred to throughout the night) and Lizzie Mayland, bassist Georgia Davies, and keyboard Aurora Nishevci took the stage along with touring drummer Daiana Azar. As “Prelude to Ecstasy” faded, Azar’s booming drums signaled the beginning of “Burn Alive.” Vocalist Abigail Morris sauntered out as the last guest to join the party. Morris was hamming it from the moment her feet hit the stage, and her natural, vibrant charisma lit up the room. She twirled and danced and embraced fans in the crowd, channeling one of the Last Dinner Party’s biggest influences, Florence Welch.

“Burn Alive” faded into “Caesar on a TV Screen” with no break. On both songs, Morris’ powerful vocals were flawless, and the band was tight. The addition of a touring powerhouse drummer like Azar made the material sound massive. As Morris introduced the band before “Feminine Urge,” her charm was palpable. Each time she addressed the crowd, she was comfortably unrestrained and captivating.

Before “The Feminine Urge”: “This song is very special because Emily F*cking Roberts is going to play the flute. SO BE QUIET!”

Before “On Your Side”: “We’ve reached the portion of our set that we like to call the weeping hour. If you came here with any tears to cry or baggage to shed or screaming to be done, now’s the time to do it. Because you won’t be allowed to cry later because it’s just dancing and sex. You’ll be thrown out if we catch you crying then.”

While coaching the crowd on singing the ending of “Portrait of a Dead Girl”: “You nearly got it. But let’s try it again and better this time.”

It’s worth noting that although Morris is the primary vocalist and handled much of the evening’s banter, the Last Dinner Party is a band of equals. All five band members’ mic stands, pedal boards, and keyboards were firmly planted at the front of the stage. Further, Mayland, Davies, and Nishevci regularly added their powerful voices to create haunting four-part harmonies. Nishevci also handled lead vocal duties on “Gjuha,” a song representing her strained relationship to her Albanian heritage. Additionally, Mayland carried the vocals on “Sinner” despite being sick.

These days, it’s rare to see a headlining band play for less than an hour and a half, much less clock a set at under an hour. But with only a 41-minute long album’s worth of material in their repertoire, the Last Dinner Party’s set flew by. With banter and a very well-executed cover of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game,” they stretched the set to about an hour, but still left the crowd wanting more.

While introducing the final song of the evening, “Nothing Matters,” Morris asked the crowd to “look after each other, get home safe, and remember: nothing matters.” While that’s a cheeky way to tie banter to a song title, looking around the room it was clear that the Last Dinner Party themselves matter very much. I’m a stereotypical cis-male has-been musician turned freelance music writer in my mid-30s. While I enjoyed the Last Dinner Party’s show, my opinion on the show is moot. What matters is the opinions of the hundreds of young women, femmes, and non-binary people in the crowd who rarely see a group representing them on the First Avenue stage. Seeing that crowd dance with reckless abandon and passionately sing along to every single word was deeply moving and objectively the coolest part of a very special show.

The Last Dinner Party

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Miss Grit

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Setlist

Prelude to Ecstasy

Burn Alive

Caesar on a TV Screen

The Feminine Urge

Beautiful Boy

On Your Side

Gjuha

Sinner

Portrait of a Dead Girl

Wicked Game (Chris Isaak cover)

Mirror

Encore

My Lady of Mercy

Nothing Matters