Review Summary: maybe just believe the hype...at least a little.
The British music media has a thing for hype and indie-rock bands. Always on the look out for fresh faces to reignite the public’s interest in guitar-oriented rock. From Blur to the Libertines to the Arctic Monkeys…to a duo called Wet Leg, there is a tradition to hype a new talent up to the point of exhaustion. A band you may have never heard of a mere few months prior are all of a sudden among some of the most talked about artists in the music sphere. Almost a year before releasing their first full-length, Wet Leg’s debut single, “Chaise Lounge," with its great bass groove and metronome-like vocals, went viral earning them millions of views on youtube and plays on streaming. Many would jump on the hype train, others offered a shrug and a “they’re all right…but they’re not [i]that[i] good.” Much like many of their NME-puffed up predecessors, Wet Leg aren’t delivering anything revolutionary in the music department, it’s all pleasantly familiar in a way we have grown accustomed from modern indie-rock, but is varied and clever enough in it’s stylistic approach so that it never feels derivative or repetitive. With that, the heart of the band seems to exist within their words, that’s where you see their character clearly: Unpretentious, uncertain, sad, and funny.
On their self-titled debut, we find Wet Leg’s Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers fumbling toward catharsis while navigating dead-ends. They touch upon depression, the time suck of social media, break-ups, etc. That intense dissatisfaction you feel when you’re not quite sure what your next step should be, while becoming very aware of all the steps it shouldn’t be (and may find yourself retreading a few more times). It’s a rut we often see among people in their 20s, looking for connection professionally, socially, creatively, etc., and failing to find it. Despite the gloomier topics, the album doesn’t take itself seriously, often relying on some good humor and bouncy jams to convey its hopelessness.
The album succeeds in creating a collection of songs that all have their own individual identity, never feeling like you’re listening to the same song on repeat. The vocals, song structure, and guitar arrangements all find new angles and space to take up with each track. “Being In Love”, the album opener, with 60s pop vocals and gritty garage rock guitars, finds solace in reframing anxiety as excitement while in a moment of defeat with the words, “I need to lie down, only just got up, I feel so uninspired, I feel like giving up, I feel like someone has punched me in the guts, but I kinda like it 'cause it feels like being in love.” While, one of my favorites of the album, “Angelica” takes us to a dull party that is remedied by taking “a bit more” of an unknown substance (spoiler: Angelica kills everyone at the end with a ray-gun). Each musical turn avoids predictability while building upon the chaos happening within the lyrics, stylistically jumping between pop, noir, and an explosive shoegazey chorus. With “Convincing," we hear Hester Chambers take over lead vocal duties, and while we don’t often get to hear her vocals so front and center on this album, I hope that changes on future recordings. The song has brushes of Mazzy Star’s weary-dreaminess, while Chamber’s voice is reminiscent of a moodier Angel Olsen. The words on this album often paint a surreal picture of mundanity. On “Oh no” the lyrics, “You’re so woke, Diet Coke, I feel gross, oh no, I went home, all alone, I checked my phone and now I'm inside it” manage to sum up social media with strange but endearing simplicity.
Now, I wouldn’t expect this album to inspire a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote, but “Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis,” certainly seems to apply to the snarky “Ur Mum”. The song has the attitude of early Arctic Monkeys, but with a lighter and more playful approach. There is a point where Teasdale prepares the listener for a moment of catharsis, “Okay, I've been practicing my longest and loudest scream. Okay, here we go one, two, three, ahhhhh!”. That part has become a highlight of their live shows with the rest of the band and audience (and in one surprise appearance at Coachella: Dave Grohl) joining in on the unbridled scream fest. It’s perhaps a moment where the band’s heart beats loudest. Wet Leg don’t offer any solutions or provide any perspective changing insight to life’s woes on this album, and they’re certainly not asking you to take them seriously. But they offer space for you to sit (or scream) alongside the uncertainties of life with a collection of songs that are vivid lyrically and compelling enough musically to keep me bopping my head from start to finish.
