Wet Leg review — UK indie duo offer unhinged reveries and effervescent pop

“Well, this is nice,” said Wet Leg’s Rhian Teasdale, observing a packed venue heaving with fans who knew all the words. The beaming singer proceeded to use the same approbation at least five more times in her between-song badinage. Life is clearly nice at the moment for Wet Leg. What’s more, it’s getting nicer.

Teasdale and her guitarist bandmate Hester Chambers are finishing their breakout year with a flourish. The UK duo have received five nominations for the 2023 Grammy Awards, a gilt-embossed stamp of approval from the hard-faced border authorities of US pop. That’s just one fewer than Harry Styles, whom they will join in February as support on his world stadium tour. He covered their single “Wet Dream” for a BBC Radio 1 live session in May, a tribute that was beyond nice for Teasdale. “It felt like we were in a parallel universe,” she marvelled afterwards.

Their own universe is classic indie rock with buzz-saw guitars, bubblegum hooks and witty lyrics about the minefield of middle-class life in your twenties as the next decade looms into view. Hailing from one of the global epicentres of niceness, the Isle of Wight, Wet Leg give slacker ennui the contemporary quality of relatability, which is just a fancy modern term for “nice”. But their gig at the Kentish Town Forum, the first of two, demanded a livelier form of praise.

Teasdale and Chambers were joined by touring bandmates Ellis Durand on bass, Henry Holmes on drums and Joshua Omead Mobaraki on keyboards and guitar. The setlist mostly drew on from their self-titled debut album, which topped the UK charts on release earlier this year. “Wet Dream” was played near the start, a comical tale of unhinged erotic reverie with irresistibly jangling riffs and brisk handclaps, done by Teasdale with hands level to her head as though she were a stern flamenco musician.

A relish for playfulness and silliness runs through Wet Leg’s songs, a way of warding off dull adult responsibilities. “Ur Mum” is about a regretted relationship with a dismal man in a dead-end town that ends with Teasdale giving an absurdly elongated scream. At the Forum, she orchestrated this yell into a mass hullabaloo, a drawn-out moment of pantomime catharsis. Other songs were buoyant with breezy la-la-la refrains and playground chants. Chambers played guitar phrases that people sang along to as though they were lyrics. Meanwhile, Teasdale sang the actual lyrics with an entertainer’s sense of timing and emphasis.

“Obvious” struck a serious tone and the only duff note, a slowie that was on the verge of dozing off before being rescued by a surge of guitars and drums. The rest of the set dashed by at an effervescent clip. They ended with the most addictively carefree of their songs, the breakthrough hit “Chaise Longue”. Performed by Teasdale and Chambers in the student fancy dress of academic mortarboards and gowns, it involved smirking euphemisms, call-and-response routines, earworm riffing, a mosh pit, a thick blizzard of confetti and a stage invasion from people in more fancy dress outfits. This wasn’t nice — it was a blast.

★★★★☆

wetlegband.com