‘Too Late Now’: The underrated Wet Leg sleeper anthem
It’s Glastonbury 2022, and at this point, I haven’t been to a festival for three years because of the pandemic. I soon learned that I had quickly lost the muscle memory that seemed to get me in the middle of dense crowds, with minimal effort. I just always managed to be in the right place at the right time, until now. Not yet acknowledging the shift in my skill, I quickly left my spot in the quickly filling crowd for Wet Leg at the Park Stage. I thought I had time to dip swiftly out for some chips, but before I had even got the first one in my mouth, the crowd was impenetrable, the stage unreachable, and my plans definitively scuppered.
That day was, give or take, exactly a year to the day since the release of their breakout single ‘Chaise Longue’. It was a movement rarely seen in the world of alternative music these days, probably not since the likes of ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ in 2005. It was a song brimming with the esotericism of an edgy sleeper hit, yet it conquered the airwaves in a fashion that was confusing and refreshing in equal measures.
Sure, the pandemic had something to do with the general sense of delirium, but it was an undeniably great song bursting with character and energy that somehow made the solace of lockdown measures feel bearable. For a brief moment during the chorus line, my housemates and I felt like our three-man house party, which was hitting its 50th consecutive day, was like the mosh pit of a raucous live festival show. Little did I know that, sadly, exactly one year later, I wouldn’t actually be able to compare the two because of one devastating portion of chips.
My disappointment at missing it was rooted deeply in curiosity. While 99% of the time it takes ten years to become an overnight success, in the case of Wet Leg, it seemingly did happen within the blink of an eye. And so in 2022, when they played a string of shows and released the album, it was time to see if the bark was harsher than the bite.
It absolutely was. Their debut album packed enough punch to back up their breakout hit and perhaps most impressively, was a succinct representation of their unique musical voice. While timid and reserved in media appearances, they were bursting with energy, wit and character in the album. ‘Wet Dream’ and ‘Angelica’ provided suitable follow up jabs to ‘Chaise Longue’, but it was their closing track that caught my attention.
Maybe not all fans share the same sentiments towards opening and closing songs on an album, but for me, they’re the bookends with which my emotions are directed. I love the storytelling of an album, be it lyrically or sonically and in a good closer, an undercurrent of drama and romanticism should exist, regardless of the band.
On ‘Too Late Now’, the guitar line rings out like a siren call to fans, gathering them around a tight corner to embrace arm-in-arm, like the band on the cover, and bring this history-making debut album to a close. Because when you think about what this record represents, it’s a record chapter in the history books of indie, an album that captured the zeitgeist in the time of wild disconnect and brought music lovers together in pursuit of something meaningful. Something they could celebrate in the hot summers that would follow, without restriction.
Rhian Teasdale’s vocals on the opening verse are hesitant and tender, subtly reminding listeners that despite the chaos and wit that preceded, as well as the national mania that surrounded it, what exists at the heart of the record are two wide-eyed music lovers, figuring out how to navigate this madness we have placed upon them. And as she descends into her monologue during the bridge, reeling off the anxieties and confusions we all have at that tender age, it’s a fitting reminder that these songs are supposed to be deeply relatable.
“I’m not sure if this is a song / I don’t even know what I’m saying,” she sings, trying to figure out what is happening in front of her very eyes.
But where the band conclude it fittingly, is finding a tone somewhere between the chaotic and nostalgic. As the full line-up rejoin Teasdale after the bridge, they’re given permission to rock out, lose themselves to a song that fits the brand they should always be striding for, while simultaneously hitting the emotional marks of a seminal album and an iconic band, who for many, have soundtracked the most important and unforgettable chapters of youth.
