Remember that whirlwind debut from Wet Leg? The one that had everyone buzzing, even while some whispered “industry plant”? Well, the Isle of Wight rockers are back, and this time they’ve expanded from a duo into a fleshed-out quintet for their highly anticipated second album, Moisturizer. This new record sees the bigger lineup wading into surprising territory: love songs. But let’s be clear, this isn’t Wet Leg suddenly going all soft and sappy. They’re still as flippant, raunchy, and gloriously unpredictable as ever. Moisturizer dives headfirst into the entire messy spectrum of relationships, from tender intimacy to unfiltered lust and simmering rage, all propped up by a catchy mix of melodic soft rock and genuinely potent, edgier bits.
The album immediately plunges into the turbulent waters of modern romance. In “CPR,” vocalist Rhian Teasdale repeatedly questions, “Is this love or suicide?” over a pulsating bassline. The track fluidly shifts from a grooving dance number to a roaring rock anthem, punctuated by a cacophony of distorted guitars, before concluding with the ambivalent admission, “Oh, I’m in love and you’re to blame.” This sets a compelling precedent for the record’s nuanced approach to affection. The vitriol is palpable on “Catch These Fists,” where Teasdale unloads her fury on unwelcome advances, delivering cutting lines like, “I just threw up in my mouth when he tried to ask me out” and the dismissive, “he don’t get puss; he gets the boot.” The scathing lyrical content is perfectly matched by the music’s aggressive tone, as Hester Chambers’ jangly lead guitar clashes with Teasdale’s grimy riffs, creating a jarring, beautiful ugliness – the sonic equivalent of a middle finger where a phone number was expected. This ruthless dismissal continues in tracks such as “Mangetout,” where Teasdale taunts with playful derision: “You think I’m pretty? You think I’m pretty cool? Nice try. Now get out of the way.”
The raw energy doesn’t let up. You’ve got the scorching garage-punk of “Pillow Talk,” which conjures up Sonic Youth-esque noise with its snarling, discordant guitars, painting a picture of a volatile, horny love-hate dynamic. But then they flip it. “Liquidize” offers a more introspective peek into the confusing emotional churn of being in love. Over an upbeat acoustic rhythm, Teasdale sings lines like, “Love struck me down. The fuck am I doing with you? You must have me hypnotised to fall in love with you tonight,” capturing that dizzying, bewildering paradox of affection. Even when Teasdale gets genuinely affectionate, her distinct humour acts like a shield, almost as if she’s uncomfortable with getting too serious. The track “Davina McCall” is a perfect example, cleverly referencing the beloved British reality TV host: “Never will I leave you stranded on an island. You know I would hold you tighter than a python. It’s that kind of love,” injecting genuine warmth with a knowing wink.
Ultimately, Moisturizer exemplifies a masterful balance of contradictions. It effortlessly combines infectious melodies, lively pop sounds, and fiery rock outbursts with love songs that are deeply introspective, raw with anger, unexpectedly joyful, and filled with confusion. Teasdale’s vocals transition smoothly from a charming croon to her signature monotone, nearly-spoken style. Lyrically, even in the softer parts of the album, sharp edges are often present just beneath the surface. The album skillfully blends intense aggression with catchy, sing-along melodies and detached cynicism with raw moments of human reflection. These delicate balancing acts are not just clever; they mark a significant and worthy evolution from Wet Leg’s acclaimed 2022 debut, reaffirming their status as one of indie rock’s most captivating and emotionally layered bands.
