It’s a homecoming tonight. The Last Dinner Party step onto the stage at O2 Academy Brixton for the first of two sold-out shows, closing out their 2025 tour in the city where much of this story began. Outside, December gloom hangs over Stockwell Road; inside, the room feels supercharged, buzzing before a note is played. And then Agnus Dei begins—From The Pyre’s call-to-arms opener, and the crowd is instantly as loud as Abigail Morris herself. Aurora Nishevci sits poised behind a grand piano, Lizzie Mayland and Emily Roberts’ guitars snarl and soar in equal measure, and Morris—every inch the theatrical ringleader—covers every centimetre of Brixton’s vast stage like it belongs to her.
The Last Dinner Party @ O2 Academy Brixton
Count The Ways follows, greeted with a cheer the moment its menacing guitars fire up. Morris’s range is spectacular—low velvet tones giving way to piercing highs—while the band, as ever, play with the precision of classical musicians and the ferocity of a glam-rock troupe. When Luca Caruso’s pounding drums launch The Feminine Urge, Morris addresses her audience at last. “Welcome to the party, London,” she beams. “We’ve waited all tour to come home and say that.” There’s a glint of something emotional in her voice as she introduces the players around her: Lizzie Mayland from Hebden Bridge, Emily Roberts, Aurora Nishevci and Georgia Davies—originally from Australia, now as integral to London’s scene as any of them.
Caesar On A TV Screen whips the room into a fervour before the mood softens for On Your Side, its aching slow-burn ushering in one of the night’s most striking sequences. Second Best opens with an immaculate five-part harmony—Nishevci, Mayland, Davies and Roberts flanking Morris at their mics—showcasing the choral blend that sets The Last Dinner Party apart from nearly every young band around them.
Then the spotlight shifts: Nishevci takes centre stage for I Hold Your Anger, seated at the grand piano, leading with a calm emotional weight that hushes Brixton. Morris stands further back, adding gentle harmonies. It’s a moment that underlines everything about this group: egos nowhere in sight; musicianship everywhere. Before the next song, Morris turns the spotlight outward: “Brixton, sweetie, I’d like to ask for you to raise your hands skywards in the applauding motion, once more, for Imogen And The Knife.” She goes beyond the usual nod to a support act—she plugs their merch, praises them sincerely, and the audience responds with a roar.
Woman Is A Tree begins in near silence, those exquisite harmonies drifting over the room like incense. Then Nishevci steps forward to introduce Gjuha. She speaks quietly at first: “For the last few years I’ve been saying it’s about being ashamed about not knowing my mother tongue as well as English.” The crowd cheers as she references the Kneecap film. “It was like a lightbulb moment… it’s about a yearning to connect—to a people, to a place, to a culture you’ve been removed from. And it’s a celebration of language. Every one or two words you learn in another language brings you closer to so many people.” Roberts’s mandolin glitters, Nishevci’s organ swells, and the harmonies bloom into one of the set’s most breathtaking performances.
Without pause, we slide into Rifle, Mayland stepping forward to take lead vocals. It’s French language section could be seen as pretentious, but somehow it works instead to elevate the operatic tune. Big Dog unleashes something wilder, rawer—less refined than the band’s album work, but intentionally so, a chance to let their feral rock side claw through. The recognisable pulse of Mirror rises from the depths, Roberts tearing into her guitar lines until Morris, grinning, declares: “Emily. Fucking. Roberts!” to deafening cheers.
The Last Dinner Party @ O2 Academy Brixton
Then the 26-year-old band lead pauses. “This is crazy that this is at the end of the tour,” she laughs. “You’re the last stop. It’s gone so quickly. But this has been the best tour of our lives, ‘cause this is exactly what we dreamed of when we were in the studio writing the second album.” She talks about daydreaming of these rooms, about sobbing through record store shows earlier this year, about the power of hearing the audience carry these songs back to them. “Having you guys feel these songs and sing them back to us has been really special.”
The Scythe begins, and she warns the crowd—playfully—of her own emotional fragility: “This one has taken me a long time to stop crying when you sing it with us—try not to cry challenge.” A beautiful piano line signals Sail Away, introduced with a reminder of the band’s partnership with Bankuet and their Ribbons for Provisions food bank initiative. “It’s another thing we can help facilitate thanks to you,” Morris says, revealing that £35,000 has already been raised on this tour.
The final run is euphoric. Sinner sees Morris cede vocals to the audience. My Lady Of Mercy becomes a unified clap-along. Nothing Matters, of course, turns Brixton into a single, moving, singing organism—balcony and floor alike on their feet at last.
The band disappear, but only briefly. The encore begins with This Is The Killer Speaking, amps cranked, tempo shifting between thunderous and triumphant. Members of Imogen And The Knife—Jack Banjo Courtney and Evan Abel—join to add brass, thickening the arrangement into something cinematic.
Then comes chaos of the best kind. Morris returns with a wicked grin: “Brixton, Brixton, Brixton… you’re good, but you could be great. We’ll teach you greatness, in the form of dance.” She invites Imogen Williams and her bandmates onstage to demonstrate choreography, barking mock-stern orders: “Don’t kick the person behind you, that’s not nice… Silence in my class!” The entire room becomes a dance troupe, 5,000 people moving in unison before the song erupts into its final chorus.
“Well London, that’s our show,” Morris beams, and it feels like the perfect summation of a night that has been less a gig and more a communal rite — one where Brixton has sung, cried, danced and roared on command. As the extended Agnus Dei outro swells and Morris painstakingly thanks every member of the crew, it becomes clear that this finale isn’t about grandstanding but about unity: a band at full creative power, each member shining in sync — Roberts and Mayland firing melodic sparks, Nishevci shifting effortlessly between piano, organ and synth, Davies anchoring everything with quiet force, and Morris guiding the emotional arc. Closing out their tour in their hometown, The Last Dinner Party don’t just meet expectations — they eclipse them, delivering a show that feels theatrical, intimate and momentous all at once. Tonight, they don’t seem like a band on the rise, but a band fully arrived.
Live review & photography of The Last Dinner Party @ O2 Academy Brixton, London by Kalpesh Patel on 7th December 2025.
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