By Fred Spanner
Wet Leg: Moisturizer ⭐⭐⭐⭐
The new album from Wet Leg, the Isle of Wight indie sensations who’ve somehow gone from Chaise Longue darlings to Glasto sensations without losing their wit, weirdness or wardrobe malfunctions.
The opener, Catch These Fists, is a screamer. Think early Yeah Yeah Yeahs by way of a mosh pit in Wetherspoons. Teasdale’s vocals snarl like someone just nicked her vape. Guitar lines slap and stomp.
CPR has got that Wet Leg DNA. Davina McCall, is a soft-rock ballad about the telly icon that somehow works. It’s weird, it’s tender, and somehow it’s one of the most heartfelt songs on the album.
On the surface, it looks like the girls have grown up. Less novelty, more nuance. But, it still kicks ass.
Wet Leg are still the best band to come out of a tiny island since… well, probably ever. Long may they reign. They’re weird, witty, and slightly tipsy.
This isn’t just “Wet Leg, but again.” It’s bolder. Tighter. Less wink-wink, more sucker punch. Tracks like Mangetout and Don’t Speak burn with a kind of righteous sass.
But they’ve also turned the dial on the emotion. Pokémon is basically an indie lullaby. U and Me at Home closes things out nicely.
Now pass the moisturizer — it’s about to get dry out there.