Weird how one little song written for a laugh with your mates can drop you in the middle of swirling cultural debates. The undeniable charms of their first single ‘Chaise Longue’ won Wet Leg the affection of all but the most joyless and cloth-eared. It also accidentally knocked over a bottle of anxieties about the state of rock and pop and the mood of wider culture, spilling hot takes about the machinery of the music business, the ‘death of bands’ and women’s voices all over the place. The spotlight was pretty bright and confusing but they had enough about them to put together a number one album full of sharp wit, infectious tunes and, um, lobsters. They also had the good sense to take their time with the follow up.
Earlier this year they came back swinging with ‘catch these fists’, Rhian flexing her muscles and offering bothersome men out for a fight with a disinterested sigh “don’t approach me, I just wanna dance with my friends”. Driving and punchy, it has a nicely ugly riff and something of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and/or The Gossip about it. Just a touch, not too much. Across the new album 90s and 00s alt-rock moves flash briefly on screen without it ever feeling retro or overly indebted. The acid tongued dismissal we know and love is there again on ‘mangetout’ with its over it refrain “get lost forever” but in the main, and perhaps a little surprisingly, moisturizer is an album of love songs.
The irregular heartbeat of opener ‘CPR’ pictures love as some kind of emotional or medical crisis asking “Is it love or suicide?” and peaking when Rhian calls emergency services to blurt “I… I… I… I’M IN LOVE.” Not just a shock to the system, love appears in its many forms, ‘liquidize’ is a little more giddily infatuated “How could I be your one? Be your marshmallow worm?” While ‘davina mccall’ is sweet and devoted if not really about its namesake, using Davina (and Shakira) as a passing reference. Although I quite like the idea of them explaining it to puzzled interviewers.
If early Wet Leg world was the slightly scrappy post-lockdown vision of Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers, touring it turned them into a fully operational five piece band. Joined by Josh Mobaraki (guitar, keys), Ellis Durand (bass) and Henry Holmes (drums) moisturizer was written as a band, living in a shared house for that purpose. The sound is richer than before, on the one hand it’s more solid in feel, on the other there’s more texture, a little more light and dark. Their ‘low-key’ preview shows immediately hit the internet and more high profile TV appearances have been coming thick and fast so expectant fans will be familiar with at least half these songs already.
The love sick fretting of ‘pond song’ steadily works itself up into a squall of noise and while it’s generally a more guitar heavy and dynamic record, its most radio friendly tune ‘pokemon’ glides along with its head in the clouds “You wanna go for a drive? Isle of Wight to Tokyo”. ’11:21′ is a slow and dreamy sadness about being apart, Rhian’s voice mostly circling high above us. The guitars on the lovely ‘don’t speak’ roar and swoon in a way that pleasingly recalls My Bloody Valentine. They return on the final ‘u and me at home’ a song about domestic contentment and the joy of huddling together away from the world, it also has some of that whole band sing-a-long thing that ‘Supermarket’ had.
Following the bright firework of their initial success multiple roads were briefly open to Wet Leg, they have chosen well I feel. Defiant, self reliant, giving full rein to their own eccentricities. On the cover they appear as slightly odd cryptid versions of themselves with long claws and no eyebrows, Hester with her back turned. Rhian crouching like something feral. moisturizer finds them growing into their power and it’s a great summer album, catchy, fun, witty, in love.
