Rhian Teasdale of Wet Leg onstage at the Royal Albert Hall on 13 November. Photo: Matthew Baker/Getty Images
Royal Albert Hall, London, 13 November
When Wet Leg went into the studio in Brighton to record the follow-up to their wildly popular self-titled 2022 debut, their plan was simple: write songs that feel good to play live. Expertly escaping the curse of the second album, Moisturizer came out in July this year and went straight to No 1 in the UK.
The Isle of Wight quintet have pulled off something no other UK band has in the last decade: become a successful breakthrough British group who’ve cracked America, won Brits and Grammys (and just been nominated for more), been covered by Robbie Williams and Harry Styles, and criss-crossed the generations. Parents and kids alike, they all know the words to Chaise Longue – which is a bit awkward at the Royal Albert Hall, as Wet Leg’s signature innuendoes (“I got the big D”) are hollered by everyone.
It’s a prestigious venue for any band to play, summarised by Teasdale with typical Wet Leg astonishment: “The Royal Albert Hall! What the fuck?”
Can confirm: those new songs sound hugely fun live too. Wet Leg have gripped the reins of a fierce hype, held on for dear life and returned with guns blazing. The band open with Catch These Fists, as lead singer Rhian Teasdale flexes her biceps like a wrestler in sparkly hotpants, winged Jeremy Scott trainers and some faux-tattoo stockings. She’s flanked by bandmates Hester Chambers (guitar/vocals), Ellis Durand (bass), Josh Mobaraki (guitar/synths) and Henry Holmes (drums), long hair hanging in front of their faces and socks pulled up like Pearl Jam. It’s a prestigious venue for any band to play, summarised by Teasdale with typical Wet Leg astonishment: “The Royal Albert Hall! What the fuck?”
Close your eyes and you could actually be in a timeless indie disco, sized for stadiums. While Wet Leg’s earlier music was wiry post-punk and had a certain lo-fi charm, the band has written as a five-piece for the first time on Moisturizer and taken a scythe to 90s alt-rock and 00s indie, each song a perfect three-minute patchwork. There’s something for Gen X (fans of Veruca Salt, Elastica, the Pixies), the millennials (the Strokes, Soulwax, maybe even hints of Franz Ferdinand) and the Gen-Zers (whose references are less specific because all eras of music are at their fingertips, in just one click). Tonight is about big riffage: new song Pillow Talk – the heaviest sex song released this year, surely – sounds particularly beefy. But there are enough dynamics within the set for Teasdale’s vocal range to shine.
Wet Leg were initially touted as a female-fronted duo, led by founders Teasdale and Chambers, but the latter’s crippling anxiety means she is more comfortable playing at the back of the stage, leaving Teasdale to command the centre. She slides down the microphone stand and dry-humps the stage – the embodiment of a raunchy rock star. It’s exciting to see someone embrace their sex appeal like this, with autobiographical lyrics on the new album exploring the euphoria, eroticism and all-encompassing newness of a queer relationship. One of the reasons Wet Leg took off so vertically and universally is because their songs captured that feeling of still grasping on to your 20s and reluctantly squaring up to your 30s. New tracks like Davina McCall might be largely about love and relationships, but they sound like Teasdale is discovering herself anew.
Rhian Teasdale of Wet Leg onstage at the Royal Albert Hall on 13 November. Photo: Chiaki Nozu/WireImage/Getty
Combined with the dry ice and blinders, it’s a slick, strobing stage show. Banter is limited; there are no political proclamations, save for a text-in auction to support LGBTQIA+ youth in the preceding interval and a Palestine flag quietly hanging over the speaker stack at the back. But there are just enough quirks to remind us that Wet Leg are still just a bunch of Isle of Wight weirdos: for Don’t Speak, they’re joined by a poor roadie in a massive blond wig playing tambourine, referencing the video for Mangetout (the song itself is tonight’s triumphant pop-rock closer). Teasdale reenacts the Dream Phone sequence of the deliriously catchy CPR with some am-dram and a red handset. Another easy but powerful win comes when they get the audience to let out a cathartic, and unifying, scream.
In the beginning, there was always the nagging sense that Wet Leg never took themselves seriously. The band are said to have formed after going on the ferris wheel at End of The Road Festival, having just watched Idles and thought: that seems like a larf. Chaise Longue was an in-joke song they almost forgot about in a folder of demos called “High Jams”. On the red carpets and in interviews, they have appeared somewhat stunned. Their new album confirms this suspicion when Teasdale sings: “Maybe we could start a band / As some kinda joke / Well, that didn’t quite go to plan”, on closing song U And Me At Home, which receives a Manics-style singalong.
But the Wet Leg of today is an impressively well-oiled machine. You can tell they’ve effectively been in band boot camp (ie, a relentless touring schedule), having already played all the O2 venues in May, followed by a slew of summer festivals and a 19-date North American tour in September. This month they play the UK and Ireland, then they’re back to the States for four dates, with the year ending in Edinburgh on 31 December, taking their total 2025 shows to something like (a knackering) 87. There’s no rest for the Wet Leg: the UK doesn’t just have a new breakthrough band, it’s got its new rock stars.
Details of the Wet Leg tour of the UK, Ireland and the US are here