How years on the road turned Wet Leg from an overnight success to a live force to be reckoned with
When Wet Leg debuted with ‘Chaise Lounge’ in the summer of 2021, they started an insular phenomenon.
From the beginning, there was something strange about them, with no shortage of intrigue. Take the ‘Chaise Lounge’ video, for instance: Wet Leg’s Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers are dressed in prairie girl outfits, shown on an open field. The duo dance erratically as Teasdale stares deadpan into the camera; Chambers’ face, in contrast, is concealed by a wide-brimmed hat.
They appear reminiscent of something out of the uncanny valley, completely outside of the usual indie-pop mould. Sonically, ‘Chaise Lounge’ is infectiously catchy, but the lyrics are sarcastic and delivered as such, not intended to be palatable.
Their quite literal overnight success was met with genuine surprise. While signed to Domino, Wet Leg were still living in their homes on the Isle of Wight, prepared to undertake years of striving towards a semblance of success. “We were completely naive and, in some ways, that was good,” Teasdale tells The Guardian. “I just thought we were going to keep on working our regular jobs. Even if you’re quite high up on a festival bill, you can’t support yourself from that alone, especially in a band with five people.”
Teasdale reveals that she worked a variety of odd jobs, which prepared her not to take life too seriously, especially once she and her bandmates found themselves thrust into the music industry. “And whatever weird job I’ve had,” she says, “something in me does want to try really hard.” This ethos guided Wet Leg as they were suddenly presented with opportunities that every indie band dreams of: endless touring and festival slots.
For three years, the band was on the road, touring their first album across the UK, playing multiple festivals, even joined on-stage at Coachella by Dave Grohl, and supporting Harry Styles, who covered their single ‘Wet Dream’ on BBC Radio 1, on his Love On Tour across Australia and New Zealand.
As a live act, Wet Leg performs with a bravado that surely captures even the most reluctant in the crowd. Joined by Chambers, guitarist Joshua Mobaraki, bassist Ellis Durand and drummer Henry Holmes, Teasdale is a challenging presence, crawling across the stage one moment and staring into the audience with an unflinching gaze the next.
Watching them play on stage, it is hard to imagine that any aversions would hinder them, though Chambers reveals that there is a constant anxiety that refuses to disappear. Opting to speak with The Guardian over email on account of her social anxiety, Chambers writes, “Sometimes I have no idea how I manage to get on the stage. Rhian said to me, feel the fear and do it anyway. That’s helped a lot. We never thought it would get this far, so it wasn’t really a problem before. But now we’re here.
“It was such a weird and unexpected journey [that] I assumed it would be over before we knew it, like a long summer holiday, just riding the wave before it spat us out,” Chambers continues, when asked what it has felt like to follow Wet Leg’s unexpected path. “I still have that voice saying ‘Don’t get too comfy’, but it’s drowned out a little by the excitement of having made a second record and getting to play some more gigs together.”
With the prospect of more touring in the new year, Wet Leg are as ready as they’ll ever be. “We’re heading back into the madness, ready or not,” Teasdale declares. “This weird dream just keeps going. I’m down to clown.” If their sophomore album, Moisturizer, is any indication, their radicalisation of the indie-pop orbit will surely push the notion of pop stardom into unfamiliar, welcome territories.
