Wet LegTrinity College Dublin★★★★☆Wet Leg’s self-titled debut album, in 2022, made them one of the UK’s biggest breakout acts, and for good reason. It was infectiously fun, old-fashioned indie rock, driven by irreverent, deadpan lyrics and a sense of play. Rather than chasing a more mainstream sound, their second album, Moisturizer, moved into different, and ultimately more interesting, territory. The songs are heavier and more sincere, and the songwriting reaches beyond the jokes for emotional depth; these are proper love songs, full of longing, obsession and exhilaration.On a foggy, wet evening at Trinity College Dublin, smoke billowing across the stage, Wet Leg open to the theme from Countdown. “Very British, but okay,” someone in the crowd says ambivalently. Luckily, the set quickly kicks into gear with the exuberant Catch These Fists, a swaggering opener whose driving riffs and sly lyrics – “We’re on our way to the club / Stupid is, stupid does / Limousine, racking up / Ketamine, giddy up” – immediately lift the atmosphere.The songs from their debut sit effortlessly alongside the more intimate new material, allowing Rhian Teasdale to show her impressive range as a frontwoman. One moment she’s thrashing across the stage; the next she’s crouched low, delivering quieter songs with surprising tenderness. The transition from the bratty exuberance of Being in Love into the surreal romance of Pond Song neatly captures the band’s evolution. “When I dipped my dogs into the pond / Of your mind, I finally found God,” Teasdale sings, drawing genuine emotion from a line that is, on paper, kind of nonsensical.She’s a captivating performer, with an uncanny ability to look as though she’s dancing around her bedroom in her panties, albeit with Timberlands, dramatic hair extensions and tiny office-siren glasses. She throws herself into the heavier moments with gleeful, unselfconscious abandon but can seamlessly switch into tender mode.Despite now playing to crowds that dwarf the venues they cut their teeth in, Wet Leg still carry themselves with a refreshing lack of self-importance. During one of Teasdale’s few moments of between-song banter, she scans the packed audience almost incredulously. “There are so many of you,” she says coyly. “What are you doing here?”By the time the sprawling CPR gives way to the closing Mangetout, the crowd is singing every word back: “You think I’m pretty, you think I’m pretty cool / You wanna fuck me, I know most people do.” Wet Leg haven’t lost the wit that made their debut so enjoyable, but they’re no longer relying on it as heavily. Judging by a set like this, they’re only just getting started.