Photos by Dylan Simmons
It’s the third Saturday in July, in the middle of my three-week escapade in London. I’m walking through the streets of Hackney with an Australian girl I had met the week before. The weather was sunny and breezy, and the River Lea reflected a perfect image of the sky above us, clouds and all.
It was that afternoon when I first heard about Wet Leg, the band’s logo wheatpasted beside an ad for Minor Figures’ oat milk. From then on, their album moisturizer followed me everywhere in the city. No matter where I went, lead singer Rhian Teasdale’s sinister gaze followed, her wide smile and four-legged squat looming overhead on various billboards.
Nine months later, I found myself in the pit of Pomona’s Fox Theater, shoulder-to-shoulder with grungy teens and dad rock fathers. In between their performances at Coachella, Wet Leg hosted three concerts in Pomona, Las Vegas, and Reno — a treat for thousands of fans who weren’t able to snag a wristband to the festival.
The sold-out show started off with an opening set from Blondshell, a New York City-based indie act. Donning a neat updo and sheer beaded black dress, frontwoman Sabrina Mae Teitelbaum commanded the stage with poise. Teitelbaum’s tone is clear and almost theatrical — combined with the flapper look, she reminded me of Chicago’s Roxie Hart.
The crowd hushed and mindlessly swayed to “Kiss City,” Dylan and I’s shared highlight of the set. The song radiates an effortless sultriness — the guitar and Teitelbaum’s silky vocals put the crowd under a spell.
Blondshell said their goodbyes. The stage cleared, and the fog machines hissed, breathing out a thick cover. The crowd got denser. I watched as people around me craned their necks, anxious for Wet Leg’s arrival.
The surge in energy was palpable as the playful guitar melody of “catch these fists” blared through the Fox Theater. Teasdale’s silhouette, flexing with both arms, slowly emerged from the fog. She sported a fierce look: a gray bodycon dress, padded boots, and a crystal clear guitar, which made its debut at her Coachella performance the previous weekend. The crowd cheered, pumping their fists to the prechorus: Man down, man down, man down!
The pulse of the strobes only built the crowd’s adrenaline, with Teasdale leading the throng of fans surrounding me. Enchanted by every move, the crowd around me craned their necks, squinting not to miss a single motion onstage. They chanted along to the chorus: “I don’t want your love, I just wanna fight!”
Wet Leg was founded in 2019 by best friends and co-lyricists Teasdale (vocals, guitar) and Hester Chambers (guitar). Since their self-titled debut, the Isle of Wight band has permanently expanded to include guitarist Josh Mobaraki, bassist Ellis Durant, and drummer Henry Holmes. Their second studio album, moisturizer, was released last summer to critical acclaim. Their performance of “catch these fists” was only a taste of the Wet Leg universe — known for their quirky guitar riffs and poppy vocals, the quintet was fully committed to proving themselves as the alt-indie darlings of the industry.
The crowd drew in their breaths as they recognized the somber synth chords of “11:21.” The song’s subdued melody naturally stands out among the rowdier tracks of the album, giving Teasdale’s voice an opportunity to shine. She shed her usual brazen stage presence, kneeling beside her mic stand illuminated by a lone spotlight. Her siren song oozed with grief as she called out to a past lover, lulling the crowd into a longing daze.
But Wet Leg didn’t allow us to wallow in the sadness for long. Without hesitation, the band revitalized the room with “pillow talk.” The song begins with hushed lyrics alongside the steady beat of the drums. Slowly, tension builds until the band hits the intense chorus: erotic lyrics juxtaposed with coarse rock. The crowd sang along to the chorus: “You’re kinda cute though, like Calamity Jane…” The stop-and-start energy of the song makes it an addictive listen, and even more engaging live.
The concert felt like it was ending too soon as the band began “mangetout.” The track has become a go-to as summer approaches, my default soundtrack to walk home from class. Teasdale got on all fours, dancing and singing to the crowd. She leaned over the fans onstage, blowing her hair back. Teasdale’s lyrics, “You think I’m pretty, you think I’m pretty cool / You say I scare you, I know most people do / This is the real world, honey, bienvenue” landed with a playful menace, the audience shouting every word back at her.
Still reeling from the performance, I watched as fans filed out of the pit, revealing discarded beer cans and plastic cups. I caught myself humming snippets of the setlist on the walk back to the car, still riding out the rush from Wet Leg’s set.
Check out moisturizer here!
