濡れた脚がワンダーランドの20周年号をカバー

Rewrite

From Isle of Wight anonymity to spearheading the indie revival, in just a few years Wet Leg have become the unlikely heroes of British guitar music. On moisturizer, their second consecutive No.1 album, they get weirder, wilder and all loved up.

It’s the height of Oasis fever. The Britpop legends – reuniting after over 15 years for a pantheon of live shows across Britain and further afield – are amid an initial five-night residency at Wembley Stadium. It appears that every bucket hat ever stitched is currently situated in the Metropolitan’s jurisdiction; any tube station is guaranteed to be bustling with middle-aged, merch-sporting disciples of Manchester’s finest, guzzling cans of Stella Artois, practicing their best Liam strut, cacophonously humming “Champagne Supernova”.

Today, though, I won’t be joining the swarms of Oasis lovers on their conquest from central London to the city’s North West for biblical enlightenment. There are better things to be doing – like meeting the face of the band that beat the Mancunians and their greatest hits compilation to a comeback No. 1 album.

“We got lucky,” shrugs Rhian Teasdale, contemplating on her band Wet Leg’s second successive ascent to top spot in the album charts with 11th July 2025-released LP moisturizer. She’s sitting in a canal-side beer garden in West London, enjoying a late-afternoon pale ale, matching my drinking pace. When she smiles – which she does often, warmly, widely, cheekily, as if she is ready to deliver the punchline of some so far unspoken joke – multiple tooth gems are discernible, including a silver jewel decorating front left incisor that reads ‘999’, an easter egg allusion to the group’s sophomore album’s second single, “CPR”.

‘Hello, 999, what’s your emergency?’ her counterpart, Hester Chambers asks on the track’s bridge. She replies – or more accurately pants with a euphoric panic: ‘Well, the thing is… I’m in love.’ The playful passage is symptomatic of the album as a whole – an unfiltered, esoteric descent into infatuation.

The 32-year-old tends to downplay everything. Flicking between piercing eye contact and vacant glances to the floor, she speaks with a fragility, a gorgeous dichotomy of natural magnetism and calculated doubt, seemingly never quite sure of what she wants to say.

“I’ve spent, and still spend, a lot of time and energy having imposter syndrome,” she says – twiddling her primrose pink-to-burnt orange hair – on the unlikeliness of finding herself on the cover of magazines and attaining No. 1 albums. “I’ve always had it, no matter what I’m doing, whether it’s making coffee, or being on set doing styling like I was before, I’ve felt like, ‘Oh my god, I’m not supposed to be here, why me, why not this other person?’ So I guess that’s just been like a constant in my life – and is for so many other people. But then you just grow up and you’re like, ‘Well, this is the position that I find myself in.’ Feeling like an imposter is just wasted energy.”

Despite Rhian’s diffidence, Wet Leg have found purposeful and unparalleled levels of prosperity. We may live in an age where artists can skyrocket from nobodies to social media sweethearts as fast as you can say industry plant, but it’s rare for a British guitar band to fit such a model.

Yet the Isle of Wight natives – at first formed by Rhian and Hester, now augmented by backing band Josh Mobaraki, Ellis Durand and Henry Holmes – immediately launched into virality with tongue-in-cheek indie sleaze-indebted anthems: June 2021-shared debut single “Chaise Longue”, and quickly-unveiled follow-up cut “Wet Dream”.

Within a year, Wet Leg would share their eponymous chart-topping debut album, and follow the triumph with two Brit Awards and two Grammy Award wins, as well as stints on the road supporting Foo Fighters and Harry Styles, respectively. Now, with their sophomore album finding similar shades of stardom, there’s no disputing the band’s position as era-defining and scene-steering.

So what’s so special about them, you ask? Let’s wind back a few weeks…

Whoever said live music is dead has never been to a Wet Leg double bill in Camden on a Thursday night. Less than a week after the release of moisturizer, at the height of July’s heatwave, the rock racketeers choose the sticky hot Electric Ballroom in Camden Town to lay out their limb soaked manifesto. Twice, in one night.

The room smells sort of like a schoolboy’s changing room; a faint musk of desperation and angsty perspiration, sealed with an indistinct whiff of those Christmas tree-shaped car deodorants. It’s a sweat box, a sauna of anticipation. I squeeze within groups of giddy attendees, aching for a decent view. But in fairness, the room is small — far below the capacity of what the band could fill, and a far cry from the tens of thousands who flocked to their barnstorming set at Glastonbury’s Other Stage a few weeks prior.

Two gigs in a single night at a fairly intimate venue – it’s a tactic, a statement, a roar of individuality. There’s an unfathomable, undeniable buzz – the drug of a fuckin’ good gig.

They’re late. 9:15 pm passes. The minutes trickle by in this broiling enclosure. Enthusiasm wanes with the polluted air.

Until…Smoke rises. As the clouds of grey dissipate, out of the mist a figure sharpens in clarity, flexing their muscles as if showcasing gains at a bodybuilding competition. The frantic cymbal crashes and snappy guitar riffage of “catch these fists” burst the eardrums. Pandemonium. Pints everywhere.

Left: Hester (left) wears t-shirt & socks STREET GRANDMA; trousers ADRIAN CASHMERE. Rhian (right) wearstop ELISE’S GIFT SHOP; briefs COME TEES, shoes stylist’s own; socks STREET GRANDMA; bracelets CYDFLM. Right: Rhian wears jacket DSQUARED2; briefs COME TEES

At the centre of a stage “that felt so big the first time we played it in the early days,” surrounded by her four bandmates and friends, Rhian captivates. She’s dominant yet tender, animalistic yet ethereal, storming around the stage and through the set list of heavy hitters from both LPs with the kind of empowering and charismatic femininity that would make the manosphere shudder.

Back in the pub, though, Rhian is keeping it coy.

Why did you play two back-to-back shows?

It just helps sell the records, doesn’t it? I’m surprised that there was that much demand for it. It’s not like a real gig or anything. Although I used to go to in-stores when I was younger.

It’s not that surprising because you’re like…one of the biggest bands in the country.

[She chuckles and looks me up and down] Hm, I don’t know. I feel like we’re pretty popular in America.

You just got a UK number one album, though.

Yeah, we did.

You’ve now got two UK number ones.

But…

There’s not another British band of your generation that has had two No. 1 albums with their first two albums.

Really?

I don’t think so. Actually, don’t quote me on that one, but I don’t think so.

Well, it’s all very strategic. Not to take away from the mystique…

Of course.

Don’t tell anyone.

But I feel like you are selling yourself a little short. You’ve done stuff that literally no one else has done.

We’re definitely very pleased about it. We’re really proud of the album that we’ve made and it was really fun to make and all five of us made it. And we did come out of nowhere with this…I don’t know, it does kind of border on a novelty song.

For Rhian and Hester, Wet Leg was never meant to be what it became. They met whilst studying together at college on the Isle of Wight, where Rhian had moved at the age of eight. “When we were teenagers, we were into Laura Marling and Johnny Flynn and Fleet Foxes,” she remembers. “There’s lots of female representation in that kind of music, I guess. I wasn’t into bands for such a long time because I didn’t really see myself in Kings of Leon or Julian Casablancas. So we separately had our own folky little things going on.”

Rhian would travel around with her keyboard and play solo, but things weren’t quite working as she hoped they would. Approaching her mid-twenties, she’d become sick of playing music that wasn’t “making me happy,” and had a run of shows that she couldn’t face playing alone, and so asked Hester to join her. “We did these gigs and they were really fun but the music was a bit slow and obscure. But we would be at festivals together, so after the set we’d go and see actual fun bands. I think we were in the crowd for Idles and we were just like, ‘Oh my god, this is so fun. Why don’t we make music like this instead?’ So we started a band.”

It was another number of years before the fully formed Wet Leg would begin releasing, with Rhian moving around, unsure of where she wanted to call home with stints in Brighton, Bristol, back on the island, before eventually settling in London. Eventually the musical formula was found – if serendipitously. “Those first two singles [“Chaise Longue” and “Wet Dream”] came out of me, Rhian and Hester being silly, hanging out in the flat and recording for fun,” guitarist Josh tells me, via Zoom, a few days after my encounter with Rhian. “It was the entertainment for the evening. They weren’t supposed to be Wet Leg songs.”

After the fortuitous success of their accidental singles – and with the backing of cult independent label Domino and legendary indie figure Dan Carey at the production helm – the then two-piece unveiled a self-titled inaugural full-length. “RIP cottagecore,” Rhian smirks, eulogising the visual aesthetic of the vibrant, anthemic if wishy-washy debut. “That was a time and very authentic to who I was and to my influences.”

The album was zealously received, gaining them festival headline-level credibility and award wins at the biggest ceremonies – including the coveted Best British Group at the 2023 Brits, Best Alternative Album at the Grammys and Songwriter of the Year at the Ivor Novello Awards. But three years down the line, Wet Leg, and Rhian in particular, are almost unrecognisable.

Hester, for personal reasons, made the decision to step away from being the dual-fronting nucleus of the band – still quintessential to the songwriting but hiding her face in photoshoots and shifting to the background of the live set-up. And so when Wet Leg reappeared in Spring 2025 with comeback cut “catch these fists”, it was with Rhian centre-stage, backed by not just Hester but also guitarist Josh, bassist Ellis and drummer Henry, who jumped from live session players to anointed full-time members for the writing of the second record.

The cover art for moisturizer is emblematic of the progression of Rhian’s own visual language. Gone are the flowing brunette locks and pastoral innocence of the debut, in come bleached pink hair and eyebrows, provocative physical posturing and a shamelessly sexy grin. She’s a frontwoman now – a Karen O, a Debbie Harry, a Kim Gordon.

“Of course I’m gonna change – it would be weird if I didn’t,” Rhian breezily addresses, tucking into a fresh pint. “It’s like when you put on an outfit that you wore five years ago and you don’t fully recognise yourself. I think everyone goes through that, but I guess it’s less noticeable in day-to-day life, whereas with Wet Leg, the world that it lives in will always be somewhere between reality and fantasy. I guess I don’t want to be any other way. It’s just a nice bit of escapism, isn’t it?”

Escaping was very much on the menu when Wet Leg came to prepare their sophomore sonic feast. Tour complete, in early 2024 the thought of writing a new album was getting Rhian “into a right tizzy,” so the band opted to migrate to the British seaside town of Southwold, Suffolk for a period, starting completely afresh having not written at all whilst on the road. “We wanted to commit and concentrate and not have any distractions,” Josh says. “We were going to lock in and just be together and properly do it.”

Vitalised by the fresh air and lack of outside noise, the quintet stormed through a new collection of tracks. With the instrumentals often birthed from group jams as Josh acted as resident producer, Rhian didn’t overthink the songwriting component, impulsively scribbling down vignettes, uncertain and unfazed by the contextual depth of her words. “It’s fun when you get to write lots of songs at a similar time and then put them all together after. It’s very telling of your emotional state and where you are in your life. It’s such a self-indulgent but nice thing to have. I want to write a diary, but I’m just not disciplined enough. But at least I have these albums,” she laughs.

Left: Rhian wears bikini top SCULPTOR WORLDWIDE; mouth guard LINUS STUEBEN; bracelets CHOPOVA LOWENA. Right: Rhian wears dress, bikinitop ELISE’S GIFT SHOP; briefs HONGJI YA

So you wrote the album instinctively, but when you went back to reflect, what did you think it’s about?

It’s just about…falling in love. And staying in love. Which sounds very boring, I think.

“Is it love or suicide?” Rhian rhetorically chants on “CPR”. Previously, her view on all-in romance was indifferent to say the least, but her current partner changed that. As a non-binary person, they opened Rhian up to her own queerness, as well as offering her wandering spirit a sense of being settled. The album is littered with acclimations of desire and happiness – from the heartfelt (‘We’re growing with the pain, we dry each other’s tears // You know, you’re my sweet baby angel’ on “davina mccall”) to the downright lustful (‘Every night I lick my pillow, I wish I was licking you,’ on “pillow talk”.)

This is no gag-inducing, cringe-worthy, generic depiction of love. No, Rhian’s emotion is sincere, surrealist, sensationful. “I hope the songs are still fun,” she giggles quietly. “As long as the songs are still fun, then I can be as self-indulgent as I want.”

Album fleshed out, the band headed to “middle ground” Brighton, again enlisting stalwart Dan Carey to engineer. “He’s very quick, very intuitive,” pinpoints Josh on the decision to stick with the Speedy Wunderground label owner, whose production credits include the wonderfully disparate first three albums from Fontaines D.C. and Black Midi’s formidable debut Schlagenheim. “He’s open to things, and he is creative, but he doesn’t force that on you. He’s down to earth but cosmic, a mad scientist but also cares about songs and songwriting.”

The end result – although highly anticipated – exceeds expectations. In fact, it doesn’t feel parabolic to label moisturizer among the best British guitar albums of the year. It’s crunchier than the debut, razor-sharp focused musically, yet carving a free-wheeling looseness that feels grounded in a more confident and rounded writing process that allowed the five-piece to push their sonic boundaries into punkier terrain. And it’s grazed upon heartily by Rhian’s infectious performances, using the record’s 38-and-a-half-minute run time to explore her vocal breadth, emotional capacity, and ferocious wit.

“The great thing about doing a second album – after being thrown headfirst into doing a first – is that you get a new appreciation of the process of what goes into other artists’ creative vision,” she reflects. “You find yourself with a lot more time to be more considered. It’s just really nice as an adult to have the opportunity to create your own little world.”

At the beginning of September, Wet Leg will embark across the Atlantic for two months of touring – a leap Rhian admits she’s “a bit nervous” about, before finishing the year with a run of dates in the EU and UK. Josh wants to “get recording and writing” on the road, whilst Rhian hopes to enjoy the experience more than she did the first time around. “Something that I regretted last time from touring was not going out enough. You’ve got to behave…if I get ill because I go out partying and I can’t sing, then I’m letting a lot of people down. But I want to go out and have more fun on this tour.”

Life has a habit of flying by, after all – you’ve got to savour the highs while they last. After years spent searching for who and what they are, Wet Leg have catapulted themselves from obscurity into contemporary saviours of guitar music and cultural instigators of the sleaze renaissance. With this pack-a-punch sophomore LP, they sit at the pinnacle; perhaps now they can stop and observe, to admire this indie wonderland they’ve manufactured.

“I think in some ways we do wish it had gone slower,” Rhian sighs on Wet Leg’s straight line to the summit, drowning the last drops of her drink and looking ahead to the spaghetti bolognese she’s going to cook her partner for dinner tonight.

I guess it’s something that you can’t really be upset about.

Yeah, it’s obviously excellent.

You can be wistful about missing the romantic struggle of being in an underground band. But you had a different type of struggle, being thrown into this virality. Honestly, I can’t think of anything worse than being famous.

I don’t think we’re famous famous.

You are pretty famous.

Nah.

At this point, I would say you’re pretty famous.

I don’t know, maybe in the indie sphere. But it’s not like it affects my day-to-day life. Sure, when we’re outside a venue and there are people that have turned up for the gig, then I might get approached, but…

You don’t get recognised on the street?

Hardly ever. Or if people do, they’re probably too scared of me.

Why do you think people are scared of you?

Hm, I think that was a joke. I wish people were scared of me.

I don’t know, I’d say the Oasis fanbase is pretty terrified of you just about now, Rhian.

Pre-order Wonderland’s 20th Anniversary Issue now.

Photography by Lolita Harley
Styling by Suzie Walsh
Words by Ben Tibbits
Hair by Masaki Kameda
Make-up by Maya Man at Stella Creative Artists using Haus Labs
Set Design by Kate Sutton at Maison Mardi Mgmt
Fashion Assistant Roksolana Zityniuk
Set Design Assistant Flo Earnshaw
Tooth Gem Artist Liv Rose
Videography by Jay Sentrosi

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