7/10

On 'moisturizer', Wet Leg toss aside the coy winks and lobster claws to reveal something far more compelling: the messy, euphoric vertigo of real vulnerability. The Isle of Wight duo, comprised Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers, return not as the indie court jesters we met on 'Chaise Longue', but as artists unafraid to wrestle with the terrifying thrill of love.

Teasdale’s voice remains the perfect Trojan horse for all this emotional contradiction. In one breath, she’s playful and childlike, singing lines like “Call the triple nine and give me CPR” with wide-eyed mock drama. The next moment, she drops into a rich, deadpan baritone, asking “Is it love or suicide?” and it lands like a punch to the chest. It’s this gleeful oscillation that gives the album its magnetic tension.

Where Wet Leg’s debut leaned heavily on ironic detachment, 'moisturizer' revels in the earnest confusion of new love. Tracks like 'liquidize' bubble over with Teasdale’s breathless amazement at her own good fortune, a sonic expression of someone learning to see the world in sharper focus. Meanwhile, 'pond song' feels like an ecstatic gut-punch, layering airy harmonies and fizzling distortion before cracking open into a joyous chorus that dares you not to shout along.

The album’s standout 'pokémon' is a shimmering, sun-drenched ride that captures what falling in love might feel like if it were animated on an old CRT television. Childhood nostalgia fuses with grown-up uncertainty in a chorus so breezy and infectious it feels like driving with the windows down on the first warm day of spring.

With 'moisturizer', Wet Leg have weaponised sincerity, wielding it as sharply as any joke. It’s a record that laughs, sobs, and side-eyes all at once. By daring to show their softer underbelly beneath the bright indie sheen, Teasdale and Chambers prove they’re here to stay, and they’re weirder, braver, and more alive than ever.