When Wet Leg first appeared back in 2021, fresh off the Red Funnel, adorned in prairie dresses, giant lobster claws and clutching a bag full of bangers, indie Britain didn’t know what hit ’em. Before long, the then-duo were topping the charts, touring the world, pocketing Grammys and Brits along the way. Forget whirlwind, it was a full-on tornado.
Four years on, it’s a near-unrecognisable band releasing their second LP, ‘Moisturizer’. To start with, there’s more of them. “The boys”, aka bassist Ellis Durand, rhythm guitarist Josh Mobaraki and drummer Henry Holmes – previously just the band accompanying Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers’ on tour – are now fully-fledged members. But the evolution doesn’t stop there.
Teasdale has grown in confidence, striding into her frontwoman role with Amazon-like prowess, while the naturally-shy Chambers has taken a step back, flanked by her new bandmates. Tonally, there’s a shift, too. While their self-titled debut mocked tragic suitors and doomed relationships with wit and whimsy, ‘Moisturizer’ finds Wet Leg deep in their feels. And it’s the kind of love that makes you call the doctor.
On album opener ‘CPR’, Teasdale questions the intensity of her crush, wondering aloud: “Is it love or suicide?” Things get no less peculiar on ‘Hypnotize’, where she swoons over a lover she calls her “marshmallow worm”. But this is Wet Leg, after all – surrealism is still very much order of the day.
If life imitates art (or vice versa), then the subject of Teasdale’s affection is NiNe8 Collective’s Lava La Rue – but they’re not the only adorable indie coupling in the mix. Chambers and Mobaraki are also an item. In fact, the cutesy ‘Don’t Speak’ was penned by Chambers, from the viewpoint of her boyfriend.
But it’s not all mushy stuff. One of the record’s standouts, ‘mangetout’, harks back to album one, directing some beautifully melodic snark at a hapless former flame. It’s laced with the killer kiss-offs that earned Wet Leg their swarms of fans. And who doesn’t want to mouth “You wanna fuck me? I know, most people do” to their situationship across a festival field?
Sonically, ‘Pokemon’ takes a left turn into woozy, dream-pop territory, shedding the post-punk label that aimed to box them in. Meanwhile, ‘Pillow Talk’ is a fierce, rock anthem that goes incredibly hard.
All in all, this is a band levelled-up. One that could have cracked under the weight of a meteoric rise almost no one saw coming, but instead, took the pressure and the impostor syndrome and used it to fuel them. Their licks are tighter, lyrics smarter and that loved-up glow? It kinda suits them.
