Commanding the stage in a confident, sculpted pose has become a symbol of empowerment for Wet Leg’s Rhian Teasdale — and she exudes that energy effortlessly.

Wet Leg Became Indie Superheroes Overnight. Now They’re Acting Like It.

At their recent show at Brooklyn’s Market Hotel, Teasdale emerged wearing a faded tank top and what could best be described as ultra-minimalist underwear. She approached the crowd and proudly flexed her arms, striking a pose that was somewhere between comic-book heroine and professional weightlifter.

She launched into “Catch These Fists” — the electrifying lead single from Wet Leg’s upcoming album Moisturizer — with an attitude that matched the fiery lyrics: “I don’t want your love, I just wanna fight,” she declared in the snarling chorus. After a few lines, Teasdale dropped her custom-made bubblegum pink guitar and flexed again, doubling down on her theatrical flair. Meanwhile, Hester Chambers — her longtime friend and the band’s lead guitarist — faced away from the audience as she played, asserting her own quiet brand of power. When the group broke into “Chaise Longue,” their breakout single, both women let loose, dancing and beaming with joy.

Since forming just a few years ago on England’s Isle of Wight, Wet Leg’s rise to indie rock stardom has been nothing short of surreal. Their debut album shot to the top of the UK charts, earned them two Grammy Awards, and caught the attention of legendary musicians like Elton John, Dave Grohl, and Lorde. With infectious tracks like “Chaise Longue” — arguably the catchiest tune ever written about a piece of furniture — they transitioned almost overnight from playing tiny gigs to supporting acts like Foo Fighters and Harry Styles on major tours.

Now, they’re preparing to release Moisturizer on July 11, an album that represents a significant evolution from their debut. While the first record was mostly written by Teasdale and Chambers, the new album is a collaborative effort by the full five-member lineup: drummer Henry Holmes, bassist Ellis Durand, and multi-instrumentalist Joshua Mobaraki (who also happens to be Chambers’s longtime partner) have joined the creative process.

Although Chambers is still very much part of the group, she has stepped back from public-facing promotion. On the first record, she and Teasdale were often presented as a soft-spoken, coordinated duo — sometimes dressed in matching prairie-style dresses. But that narrative no longer reflects the reality of the band. “We’re definitely a band now,” Teasdale emphasized. After touring for two years together, she said, it only made sense to write their second album as a unified team. “Everyone had a real sense of ownership over it.”

The group will kick off a U.S. tour in September, bringing Moisturizer — and its expanded creative identity — to fans across the country.

Musically, the album builds on the sonic identity that made Wet Leg’s debut so compelling: Teasdale’s dry, spoken vocals paired with fuzzy 1990s guitar tones and early-2000s synths, along with subtle cultural nods that fans love decoding. One track, “Davina McCall,” is named after a beloved British TV host. As for the quirky title Moisturizer, Teasdale said it came from an inside joke, much like the band’s name — a reminder not to take themselves too seriously.

But there’s new emotional territory here, too. This time, there are more love songs — raw, sometimes tender, sometimes tongue-in-cheek — inspired in part by Teasdale’s relationship with her nonbinary partner, whom she met in 2021. For Chambers, her contributions reflect a decade-long relationship with Mobaraki. Still, even the softest tracks contain an edge. The album opens with “CPR,” where Teasdale sings: “Is it love, or suicide?”

The album art speaks volumes: Teasdale crouches like she’s ready to spring into action, sporting long, claw-like nails. In another shot, she and Chambers smile while cuddling up to a green-faced ghoul. “There’s a real sense of having each other’s backs,” Teasdale said. “We’ve created a space that feels safe — even when it’s weird or scary.”

Managing the rapid success and internal changes could’ve been overwhelming, but the group seems to have handled the spotlight with ease. Julian Casablancas, frontman of The Strokes, praised them: “They’re doing amazing,” he said. “I’m a huge fan.” (He even joked about his new band, The Voidz, opening for Wet Leg if anyone could put him in touch.)

Chambers, who’s 31, has opted out of interviews and photo shoots this time around. In the past, she’s spoken candidly about dealing with social anxiety and the challenges of live performance. But she credits Teasdale with helping her face those fears. “Feel the fear and do it anyway,” Chambers once said, repeating Teasdale’s advice.

Mobarki echoed the group’s commitment to authenticity. “We want everyone to show up exactly as they are,” he said. “If you compromise that, you’re not really making art anymore. You’re just delivering a product.” Chambers, he added, may be quiet, but that doesn’t stop her from being expressive in the studio or onstage. “Sometimes she’s the life of the party, and other times she’s completely content to sit in silence.”

Maintaining creative control has been a key part of Wet Leg’s success. Teasdale and Chambers directed their own music videos, using what Teasdale calls “self-taught skills.” For Moisturizer, the band wrote songs while living together in a rented house on England’s east coast. “It was someone’s actual family home,” Teasdale said. “We cleared out the kids’ playroom, moved some toys and little sofas, and set up our drums. Everything went straight into Joshua’s laptop.”

That DIY environment felt both luxurious and grounding for a band whose members were recently working day jobs in coffee shops, construction, or surf instruction. “It was a low-pressure space,” Mobaraki said. “We watched movies, played video games, and made each other laugh. That’s where the magic happened.”

I met Teasdale on a blustery afternoon in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. While most of the band still lives on the Isle of Wight — just a short ferry ride from the English mainland — Teasdale now resides in London, where she enjoys long walks along the canals. “I think I’ll always feel connected to water,” she said. “Even a little canal gives me that sense of peace.”

Wearing oversized rubber boots, a faux fur coat, and a tank top, Teasdale looked every bit the rock star — down to the custom handbag adorned with a real jar of Hellmann’s mayonnaise. Underneath it all, she wore boxer briefs beneath bikini bottoms. “That’s actually three pairs of underwear,” she laughed. “You know — just in case.”

With her ombré-dyed hair, sparkling eye bling, and irreverent fashion sense, she looked like Brigitte Bardot crossed with Pippi Longstocking — but with serious attitude. Teasdale previously worked as a commercial wardrobe stylist and still plays a major role in crafting Wet Leg’s visual aesthetic. “It’s so empowering to decide how we’re seen,” she said. “And building a world around our music — that’s just as fun as making the songs.”

Meeting her current partner at a festival in 2021 was life-altering, she said. “It was instant. Love at first sight.” That relationship, and the discovery of her queer identity, reshaped her songwriting. “Maybe I couldn’t write love songs before because they weren’t true to me,” she reflected. “But now, I’m just so in love — it was impossible not to write about it.”

Of course, Wet Leg’s signature humor hasn’t gone anywhere. On “Liquidize,” Teasdale describes herself as a “marshmallow worm,” a nickname born from a fluffy coat and a round of playful banter. “We were just being silly,” she said. “But sometimes the dumbest lines are the best.”

The band’s sonic growth is evident, especially through their collaborations with producer Dan Carey (Foals, Fontaines D.C.) and their atmospheric Grammy-winning remix of Depeche Mode’s “Wagging Tongue.”

“Things feel like they’re finally settling into place,” Mobaraki said. Teasdale agreed: “We’ve learned how to navigate it all.”

And nowhere is their evolution more obvious than onstage. Inspired by artists like Mitski and Caroline Polachek, Teasdale has pulled back on guitar duties to focus more on movement and emotional delivery. The result? An electrifying presence that’s equal parts grace and power.

“Taking up space — being strong — it just feels really good,” she said. “I think it’s powerful to own that.”