On the first song of their self-titled debut album, Wet Leg were feeling uninspired, beaten down, and zoned out, equating it all to the same oddly desirable state: ‘Being in Love’. Three years later, the Isle of Wright five-piece – helmed by Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers – open their sophomore album by reevaluating: being in love isn’t a thing you “kinda like.” It’s an emergency. It makes you sound ravenous, maniacal, silly, and melodramatic, all adjectives that describe moisturizer even as Wet Leg maintain their deadpan humour and off-beat aesthetic. Yet the record, once again produced by Dan Carey, softens into and soaks up its pleasures and contradictions, the way it can appear fantastical even as the sobering reality kicks in. What ‘Being in Love’ describes as “some kind of fucked up trip” is just “happy comatose,” which isn’t a bad slogan for moisturizer. Apply gently; it just might do you good.

1. CPR

You expect the serpentine riffs, the chunky bass, the driving drums, but hearing that Swarmatron synth (an instrument producer Dan Carey has used cannily enough to land him in the Wikipedia page for it) blasting like a siren all over the chorus? That’s a pretty bold signal that Wet Leg have found themselves in unexpected territory. Rhian Teasdale will proclaim that she’s deep in love later on the album, but in this earlier stage, it comes off both infatuated and slyly accusatory: “I’m in love/ And you’re to blame.” Though she describes getting lost in someone’s eyes as just a tendency, she’s not shy about the intensity of the situation, which blurs love into suicide. The ride’s only just begun.

2. liquidize

Uncertainty creeps in between the shadows of moisturizer’s two confident singles, with the band leaning into dream-pop to capture the haze of wondering if you’re worth the love that’s being directed right at you. Teasdale is just as convincing in this melancholy mode, cutting through despite the silliness of phrases like “marshmallow worm.” (Complimentary.)

3. catch these fists

While it still holds up as an excellent first single, recapturing the magic of Wet Leg’s earliest outings, it’s more of a tonal outlier on the album. It’s battle-ready in a way that directly contrasts ‘liquidize’, juxtaposing the refrain “Lovestruck/ Me down” with the way snarkier “Man down/ Level up.” Sometimes, an old move is all you need to pick yourself back up.

4. davina mccall

If ‘liquidize’ wasn’t enough, those quick to judge moisturizer as an imitation of its predecessor are offered ‘davina mccall’, where the singer relaxes into the euphoria of a good relationship. Love works in references: “Sipping on Ribena/ Fuck like Coca-Cola.” When Shakira’s ‘Whenever, Wherever’ comes on, you can relate without making a fuss, just laying back and smiling. It’s the twangiest Wet Leg have sounded, and while no longer allergic to the saccharine nature of it, Teasdale evades completing the melody when singing “you’re like the sun,” yet means it all the same. Like an extension of its mood, the song gets a little lazy at the end, but you just know there’ll be another switch-up.

5. jennifer’s body

Getting deeper into the wormhole, the band punches up the dreaminess of ‘liquidize’ for what almost resembles a shoegaze track. Wet Leg don’t sound like trend-chasers, but the arrangement feels oddly flat, and there’s barely a word sung that doesn’t go without saying (“Can’t you see I’m obsessed with you?”). It’s fittingly hypnotic – the interplay between Teasdale and Chambers particularly enchanting – but you wish it’d stretch itself out for a bigger impact.

6. mangetout

The group is back in shrugging, strutting top form. “I gave you magic beans,” Teasdale sings, nailing the pronunciation of the title before making its double entendre clear: “Get lost forever!” It’s full of biting remarks, the kind that gets under your skin even if you need Google to even get it. I’ll save you a search: RNLI is the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. Not that there’s any saving grace for this type of guy.

7. pokemon

“I don’t wanna take it slow,” Teasdale affirms, and while the song isn’t slow-paced, its graceful yearning for escape – adorned with heavenly synths and all – does mellow things out.

8. pond song

More firmly balanced than ‘CPR’, less insecure than ‘liquidize’, and catchier than ‘jennifer’s body’, ‘pond song’ hits us with another slew of references that didn’t make it onto ‘davina mccall’. But first, we get the setup of a story: “I was a small town girl/ Tryna make it big.” The beloved is no longer like the sun, and this small town girl? Well, she’s the flower. It’s all well and good until the story creeps back into view:  “You’re hoping I won’t disappear/ When we cross that ocean.” The girl’s made it big, and it’s harder to make promises.

9. pillow talk

“You’re so sweet even when you’re sour,” Teasdale sang romantically on the previous song, which turns ripe with tension on the raunchy ‘pillow talk’: “You’re sweet/ You’re sour.” Carey leans into his gothiest tendencies as a producer, while Ellis Durand and Henry Holmes’ rhythm section blows the song open.  “To sleep/ To dream/ To fuck/ To feel.” Is it Shakespeare or pillow talk? Love or suicide? Is that the Swarmatron I hear?

10. don’t speak

With Chambers taking on lead vocals and a sweet guitar solo from Mobaraki, Wet Leg soften up on ‘don’t speak’, a better attempt at a shoegazey track. There’s no Princess Bride references here; just “You’re the rock to my roll.” There’s a darkness hidden in the vulnerability, but she asks her lover to “burden the bad.” As a whole, moisturizer makes it sound possible.

11. 11:21

Wet Leg had slower cuts, but no ballad quite like ‘11:21’. There’s irony in the band timestamping a song about time passing by yet feeling “the same way about you since the day we first met,” a feeling that persists even as the metaphors start to fall apart. Mobaraki’s keys and Chambers on the tin whistle help evoke a nocturnal atmosphere, over which Teasdale delivers her most mesmerizing performance, stretching the words “met” and “tonight” like they really are tantamount to forever.

12. u and me at home

There aren’t enough anthems about the sweet relief of returning home with a loved one, happily comatosing. moisturizer’s closer delivers on that front yet also scans as a communal sigh from a band that’s been touring non-stop for the last few years, yet somehow find time to write a full album of songs seemingly disconnected from life on the road – until ‘u and me at home’, that is. Again, not much of a story here, yet the plot thickens. “Maybe we could start a band/ As some kinda joke,” Teasdale reminisces, as she has, indeed, in several interviews. “Now we been stretched across the world/ Over land and sea/ And there’s this big elastic band that pulls you back to me.” Meta wordplay is Wet Leg’s bread and butter, but you wouldn’t expect it to be quite so moving.