,” that would have been enough. The song is droll and hooky, a blast of anarchic energy packed into three-ish minutes of deadpan vocals and careening guitars. Turns out that’s not their only achievement. In fact, “Chaise Longue” is basically a setup for Wet Leg’s self-titled first album, a gleefully bawdy, often adrenalizing exploration of ennui, lust and catharsis.
It can be tempting to think that a band that debuts with a funny song is destined to be a gimmick, but Wet Leg principles Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers dispel any such concern with a display of range and depth on these 12 songs.
Whatever else they are, Teasdale and Chambers are funny, in a dry, one-raised-eyebrow kind of way: while doom-scrolling on a smartphone, say, over lurching fuzzed-out guitars on “Oh No.” “I checked my phone, and now I’m inside it,” Teasdale intones, her dread balanced with lethargy. Yet for all their deadpan wit, they also have heart.
More often, the humor comes wrapped in an upbeat package, in keeping with what Teasdale has said is a desire “to be goofy and a little bit rude. We want to write songs that people can dance to.” “Wet Dream” hits the trifecta: With a big, shout-along chorus, the song surges ahead on a looping bassline and propulsive beat.
Their songwriting is tight, their lyrics are brazen, smart and amusing, and they are at ease shifting through various indie styles. What really makes Wet Leg stand out, though, is that Teasdale and Chambers are so clearly having fun. Friends since they met as students at Isle of Wight College in the U.K. a decade ago, the duo often sound onas though their songs are intended primarily to entertain themselves, and each other. The rest of us are lucky to be along for the ride.