Wet Leg are absolutely over it. There’s no time left for negotiations; it’s time for battle: “I don't want your love, I just wanna fight,“ frontwoman Rhian Teasdale sings on “catch these fists.” The spiteful lead single from the band’s sophomore album, moisturizer, reached the top spot on The Current’s annual Top 89 countdown for 2025. 

The British indie-rock duo of Teasdale and guitarist and co-writer Hester Chambers — and now officially including guitarist Joshua Mobaraki, bassist Ellis Durand, and drummer Henry Holmes as part of the mix — have been making infectious music since 2019. The musicians secured a Grammy for their debut, self-titled album, and the Recording Academy named “Chaise Longue” Best Alternative Music Performance. The song also came in at No. 1 on the Top 89 countdown in 2021. 

Wet Leg returned this year with a rebranding of sorts. The moisturizer album cover features Teasdale smiling mischievously while hunched over on all fours. Chambers sits facing away from the camera, gripping her back. Both wear claw-like finger nails, and there’s an almost sinister aura in the image that veers far from the artists’ “cottage-core” prairie-style dresses worn in the “Chaise Longue” music video. 

The visual aesthetic has transformed in the real world, too. When the band showed up for their Twin Cities debut at First Avenue in 2022, they wore casual, everyday outfits and twirled around with a wholesome, playful energy. Last September, Teasdale stood front and center in her tight shorts and tank top, looking ready to jump into a boxing ring when she flexed her muscles in the Mainroom. 

As for the music itself, many charming elements from the debut record remain on moisturizer: deadpan, cheeky, and occasionally spoken-sung lyrics, sticky art-punk hooks, and production from Dan Carey (Fontaines D.C., Black Midi, Squid).

So what exactly is the “it” Wet Leg have had enough of on the lead single? The answer is undeniably unwanted sexual advances from men. Teasdale sings, “Some guy comes up and says I'm his type / I just threw up in my mouth / When he just tried to ask me out,” referring to a night at a club. The perpetrator’s intentions are predictable, and she’s not going to just ignore him; she’s going to come out swinging. 

Though physical aggression arises as a reaction to someone’s approach, the energy feels more offensive than defensive — as if a stranger’s harassment is the last straw after recurring disrespect. Teasdale commands “Level up!” and throws in a “Stupid is, stupid does” jab. The tight guitar riffs, chunky bass lines, and agitated dance-punk drumming hammer the warning home. In the music video, Teasdale stands holding a portable stereo overhead with a sneer of “You think you can mess with me?” in her eyes. 

The vengeful track is important within the context of moisturizer, an album written as Teasdale fell in love with her non-binary partner and discovered her queer identity. "I thought I was straight all of my life until I met my current partner — these love songs are about them," she explains in a press release. "I just found it so much more interesting and empowering to be writing love songs where I’m not lusting over a man — it feels a little bit different."

There’s been a lot of online discourse around decentering men this year. Vogue’s viral “Is Having a Boyfriend Embarrassing Now?” article set off a spiral of commentary and reaction videos on social media. Many celebrities talked about their journeys toward liberation. And especially after 2024’s presidential election, interest in the 4B movement, a South Korean feminist initiative to reject patriarchal norms and unequal power dynamics, resurfaced. 

Including “catch these fists” in the tracklist is an acknowledgement of anger that exists outside of a fulfilling romantic partnership and emphasizes that love and disdain aren’t mutually exclusive. We can find joy in day-to-day life — and anger at the world surrounding us. The rest of moisturizer is full of affectionate prose, like Teasdale asking how she got so lucky on “liquidize” and singing, “I melt for you, I liquidize / I want you to want me all the time.” But she briefly steps away from those tender emotions to keep an eye on the bigger picture.

Maybe Teasdale and the band are indirectly projecting the rage onto cultural misogyny that feels ever-present. It’s not just an outburst at a random man at a bar. It’s a battle against the societal systems harming themselves and others; it’s a fight for neighbors next door.

At the First Avenue show in September, Teasdale’s shirt read, “Happiest girl in the world.” Listening to “catch these fists,” the phrase may seem sarcastic. Yet there’s an air of satisfaction in the singer’s voice when she chants, “Fight, fight, fight, fight” followed by “man down” in an apathetic drawl. The music video ends with Teasdale dropping the stereo on a man’s head. He lies motionless. It’s an anthem of resistance, and the win doesn’t come with sympathy for the perpetrator.