Wet Leg: moisturizer [Album Review]

Wet Leg
moisturizer
Domino [2025]

“Wet Leg double down on their instincts—and the payoff is loud, messy, and magnetic.”

Album Overview: Wet Leg began as a cheeky duo from the Isle of Wight—Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers—fueled by shared humor, inside jokes, and guitar pedals. After adding Ellis Durand (bass), Henry Holmes (drums), and Joshua Mobaraki (guitar/synth), the band evolved into a five-headed live force. Their 2022 self-titled debut was a runaway hit, topping charts, winning major awards, and earning TFN’s Album of the Year honors. It would’ve been easy—or maybe expected—for the follow-up to play it safe. moisturizer doesn’t do that.

Instead, Wet Leg get weirder, sharper, and more emotionally tangled. Written together during a secluded stint in Southwold, moisturizer captures a band following instinct, not formula. The album is chaotic, intimate, theatrical, and often delightfully messy. There’s no attempt to bottle the debut’s lightning; this is its own strange storm—one with punchy love songs, bitter takedowns, offbeat humor, and raw nerves. At times it hits harder, at others it softens the edges. It’s less immediate than the debut but just as compelling, proving Wet Leg aren’t just a viral flash—they’re a band with staying power.

Musical Style: moisturizer skates a jagged edge between indie rock, post-punk, and wiry synth-pop. Guitars squeal and swerve, basslines rumble like they’ve got something to prove, and drums pound with precision. Synths slither in at strange angles, while vocals shift between deadpan mutters and ecstatic yelps—often layered with shout-along gang vocals. The result is a calculated chaos: sweet melodies veer into noise, grooves glitch out, and hooks arrive sideways but land hard.

Evolution of Sound: If the debut flirted with irony, moisturizer digs deeper and darker. There’s a moodier streak throughout, with fuller arrangements and a clear sense of group collaboration. Love songs aren’t soft—they’re obsessive, barbed, and emotionally frayed. The band pushes themselves sonically and lyrically, creating an album that’s less filtered, less polished, and more alive. You can hear them wrestling with ideas in real time—and that tension is part of the thrill.

Artists with Similar Fire: Think the spoken swagger of Dry Cleaning, the bite of Le Tigre, and the rhythmic punch of Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Add in the sideways sparkle of Confidence Man, the jagged looseness of The Raincoats, and the kinetic thump of early CSS or The Kills. Fans of Alvvays or The Beths may also find a kindred spirit here, especially in the way Wet Leg balances hooks with left-field energy.

Pivotal Tracks: “CPR” sets the tone with a woozy pulse and lyrics that capture the rush of attraction when your body moves faster than your brain. “catch these fists” punches through with thick low-end and a vocal that slices like a scalpel. “pond song” slows things down with syrupy sincerity, while “mangetout” goes in for the kill with sarcasm and venom. “davina mccall” brings a surprising tenderness, and closer “u and me at home” ends the album with a communal lift, like a weird group hug in song form.

Lyrical Strength: Wet Leg’s lyrics are sharp, strange, and often laugh-out-loud blunt. Teasdale and Chambers ditch metaphors in favor of journal-entry realness—obsessive thoughts, inside jokes, and sudden flashes of vulnerability. There’s contradiction everywhere: sweet but acidic, romantic but unromantic, awkward but bold. The words land like texts from a best friend who’s spiraling—but doing it with style.

Final Groove: moisturizer avoids the sophomore slump by refusing to chase what came before. It’s not as instantly accessible as their debut, but it’s still emotionally rich, potentially riskier, and just as rewarding. Wet Leg stretch out and stumble forward—on purpose—and that wobble gives the record its charm. They’ve taken everything that made their debut buzzworthy and messed with the formula just enough to keep things thrilling. If Wet Leg was a revelation, moisturizer is a declaration: they’re not here to play it safe—they’re here to stay weird. And we’re here for it.

WET LEG REVIEW HISTORY
Wet Leg (2022)

WET LEG LINKS
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