When Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers of Wet Leg announced their sophomore album, moisturizer, they made a statement along with it: This was a completely new era. Where some bands may want to rest on their laurels after a smash-hit, Grammy-winning debut, they were quick to give anybody expecting sameness the finger.
First and foremost, they weren't a duo anymore. They were a band, bringing touring cohorts Henry Holmes (drums), Josh Mobaraki (guitar), and Ellis Durand (bass) on as full-time members, and writing all the songs as a five-piece.
Secondly, the duo did not look the way anyone remembered. Teasdale embraced a tougher aesthetic, putting on pounds of muscle, dying her deep auburn hair a muted pink, and growing untamed armpit hair, much to the dismay of small-minded losers on social media.
Chambers didn't look like anything at all as she stepped away from the spotlight, concealing herself behind her lustrous blonde, and when the band took the stage at the Greek last Friday, she remained in the background behind thick clouds of smoke.
As they played through 19 of the 24 songs they've officially released in their short but impressive career, this new era was unabashed and even more authentic. Teasdale is the confident, queer frontwoman who is nowhere near afraid to shout about being in love, Chambers is content to rock out screeching guitar riffs beside the comfort and safety of her microphone, and these songs are meant to be presented as a team, not by replaceable musicians flanking a duo.
Teasdale elucidated this statement as soon as she stepped on stage, marching to front and center, flexing her biceps as the high-flying dance punk of "catch these fists" raged around her and rapid-fire strobelights nearly blinded everyone in the sold-out amphitheatre.
There was no misunderstanding. You don't like it? Get ready to fight.
But everyone liked it. At every moment when a four-on-the-floor kick drum landed (and there are tons of those in the Wet Leg discography), the entire crowd instinctually started clapping along. When they beckoned us to scream as long and loud as we could, we kept it going for at least five minutes.
It's not like the songs on the first album were inauthentic. "Chaise Lounge" is an absolute winner live, with its rip-roaring guitar juxtaposed against apathetic messaging, creating a spiritual dichotomy that stretched everyone to both extremes. Quiet and loud. Active and still. The vocal hook on "Too Late Now" (which was morphed by Soulwax into a Grammy-nominated remix) was ice-cold, leading to an explosion combining the strength of two guitars united under one banner.
The new songs just stretched their bit even further. "pillow talk" lumbered into the land of metal with titanic distortion. "CPR" captured all the fear and other crap that comes with being in love with uncomfortable synths, while Teasdale showed her range with a phone-mic moment where she almost sounded insecure.
Closing with "mangetout" was a class choice. In many ways, it presented the same essence as "catch these fists." Encouraging anyone who doesn't care for what they're doing to clear the lane. Except, instead of doing so with intensity like the former, the band actioned their intention with diverse coalescence.
Every member had their exact role in this song. Mobaraki speaking his plain backing vocals, Holmes and Durand uniting as a precise rhythm section during the bridge, Chambers delivering the destructive guitar hits, and Teasdale explaining with her sweet yet unmistakable voice (in multiple languages) that these five Brits don't need you.
If you like them, please attend a show. You are welcome to join, and they'd love to have you. Otherwise, man, get out.
