What came first: the music or the misery? In The Last Dinner Party’s case, the conundrum goes along more online lines: was it the music, or was it the discourse? The all-female quintet have released just one single, the jangly anthem “Nothing Matters”, but lots of articles have been written about them, and lots of them have used the patience-testing word “buzzy”. Inevitably, that feverish hype has been followed by some hefty cynicism. Scroll through Twitter and you’ll see all kinds of suggestions. They’re “industry plants”. They’re “nepo babies”. They once flushed Sam Fender’s head down a toilet. (OK, I made that last one up.)
This was a band, the overexcited first profiles told us, who have been slogging it on the gig circuit for the past 12 months, building up a fanbase organically rather than inflicting themselves upon us via an algorithm overlord. But The Last Dinner Party are signed to major label Island Records, and managed by QPrime, which counts Metallica, Muse and Foals among its clients, so some think that’s disingenuous. These resources, some have argued, have given them a soft landing into an industry that’s notoriously tricky to break into, and a profile that doesn’t equate with a band that have only released one song. Whether their music is actually any good has seemed almost beside the point, and a debate about privilege, fairness and opportunities has threatened to overshadow the band’s momentum. But are they really baddies? Or is the scrutiny they’re facing actually a signal that women in music can never win?
