Maybe I’m late to the party, but I finally get it. Wet Leg’s second album Moisturiser just shot straight to number one, and after witnessing their “outstore” at Electric Ballroom, the critics’ darling status makes perfect sense.
Smart lyrics, just the right amount of attitude, and the perfect record label in Domino create this ideal storm of buzz, delivery, and execution. The sound hits like a very potent mix of Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Stereolab. Familiar enough to grab you, distinct enough to matter. The record is good, but the live show is 10 times better. This is one of those bands where you absolutely have to see them live to understand what all the fuss is about.
Originally slated as an instore at Rough Trade, demand pushed it to Electric Ballroom, one of my favourite venues in London. They even had to add a matinee show that sold out in minutes. Thank God for that, because I hate outdoor festivals with the passion of a thousand suns. I’m more of an indoor cat. I want to see bands have full control of lights and stage, be within striking distance of each other and the crowd, not sprawled across some massive outdoor stage like they’re performing for ants.
It was relentless and didn’t let up for even a second. Maybe it was a shorter set, but the audience didn’t get a chance to breathe. Rhian Teasdale was like a cross between Iggy Pop, Peaches, and a bit of Wendy Williams. She made it look like she’d been doing this her whole life while most frontpeople are still trying way too fucking hard. Maybe a bit cliche to say, but it was mesmerising. A trip back to the ’90s when you heard the Breeders for the first time, or witnessed post-punk and post-modern collide in real time.
The setlist was twelve songs, intentionally tight: seven from Moisturiser, five from the debut. They all hit hard, but the highlights were “Catch These Fists,” “Liquidize,” and “Mangetout.” Tracks that showcase exactly why this band has everyone talking.
This is going to be the summer of Wet Leg. Actually, they’ll probably just take over the entire year. I’m still buzzing a week later.
