Wet Leg explores themes of lust and male rage on their sophomore record
‘moisturizer’ sees the Isle of Wight double down on their signature punch and, this time, it’s thirstier and angstier than ever.
Photo: Alice Backham
The pressure was set for Wet Leg following the release of their multi-Grammy Award-winning self-titled debut, with expectations high for a follow-up as compelling as the left-field success of their sarcastic vocal style and witty lyricism. Long-awaited, moisturizer arrives as a confident statement from a band carrying the composure of seasoned professionals, effortlessly surpassing the high expectations set by their debut.
moisturizer reunites Wet Leg with previous producer Dan Carey, alongside Josh Mobaraki (guitar and keys), bassist Ellis Durand and drummer Henry Holmes, who have now been officially inducted into the band after four years of touring. Now fully formed, the band seemingly shows a stronger sense of unity and growth on this new record, while continuing to embrace their signature absurd lyricism and ironic spoken-word verses.
While the themes of angst and defiance remain present from their debut record, moisturizer sees Rhian Teasdale expand her lyrical range, delving into the ideas of lust and, most poignantly, love. Across the entire record, Rhian’s fixation on this new relationship takes centre stage, from the simplistic impression “I love you like nobody else” on 11:21, to the comparison of her and her lover as “Salsa and Doritos” on don’t speak.
The record opens with the pulsating bassline of CPR laying the foundations for the song’s view on love as a life-threatening spell. “Is it love or suicide?” Rhian questions in the pre-chorus, caught between infatuation and self-destruction, uncertain whether giving in to desire will save her or consume her entirely. This question continues before a full head-banging guitar riff seizes control of the track, as Rhian demands “CPR” to either escape the grip of love or surrender fully to it. The tension finally peaks and an answer looms with a call from 999: “What’s your emergency?” and in a moment of collapse, Rhian caves under the weight of uncertainty, delivering a stammering confession: “I, I, I, I, I, I’m in love”.
If CPR flirted with the idea of fatal love, liquidize makes clear her inability to resist the complete emotional surrender this interest has on her. Lines like “It’s not like me to fall head over heels / I melt for you, I liquidise”, declare the vulnerability she has for this relationship, as her fixation turns fluid and completely consuming. Any doubt from the opener is replaced by a desperate longing to be desired back, as the track trades CPR’s chaos for something more sensual and breezy — a lighter, indie summer-love banger.
Following a three-year wait for new material after their debut, Wet Leg returned in April with catch these fists, a post-punk-inspired track reiterating the defiance against unwanted male attention. Laced with newfound confidence, Rhian opens the track with a bold challenge: “Can you catch a medicine ball? / Can you catch yourself when you fall? / Cause what I really want to know is, can you catch these fists?”. It’s a line that sets the tone for a song that’s more confrontational than ever before. The track has become the staple opener on their warm-up tour, where Rhian takes centre stage, flexing her biceps and usually sporting a retro-inspired two-piece. It’s a playful yet commanding look that feels like a sartorial middle finger to the kind of men who mistake approachability for availability.
Another album standout is jennifer’s body, a direct nod to the 2009 cult horror film of the same name. However, rather than echoing the film’s gore and feminist rage, Wet Leg take the title in a completely unexpected direction, with mentions of a love confession made to her lover at a party repeating: “I like you, every day starts and ends with / Go to sleep just so I can dream of you / Can’t you see I’m obsessed with you?”.
The record isn’t solely a showcase of Wet Leg’s fresh punk-inspired direction, as they continue to stick to their roots of mellow, catchy indie slow burners that defined much of their debut. The track davina mccall fully masters this approach, while mixing in their signature quirky lyricism through direct comparisons to modern pop culture. Rhian likens herself to both British TV presenter Davina McCall and Shakira, using these playful parallels as a way of confessing her adamant stance on committing to her lover for eternity.
Not every moment hits the same high, as 11:21 marks the album’s lone stumble in its tracks. The song lacks any dynamic shifts found elsewhere on the album, sticking to a one-dimensional structure that never quite lifts off. But in a record this consistent, a single misstep only highlights just how high the bar has been set.
What began as a tongue-in-cheek decision to form a band on a Ferris wheel has spiralled into something far beyond Wet Leg’s imagination. Since the overnight success of Chaise Longue in 2021, the Isle of Wight band were launched into the heart of the indie scene. Rather than caving to the weight of expectation, Wet Leg show no signs of slowing down on moisturizer, with them doubling down on their trademark absurd energy under soundscapes that inevitably sound more refined alongside their spoken-word tangents and chaotic guitar riffs. If their debut album was seen by some as a fluke or one tone, then moisturizer is a bold, cohesive collection of songs declaring that Wet Leg are here to stay.
moisturiser is out now via Domino Records.