Back in 2022, The Park Stage was fit to bursting. Sightlines were so bad for so many that Wet Leg, the then hotly tipped twosome from the Isle of Wight were a mere sound in the distance. And so, it was true for this writer – I couldn’t get anywhere near the stage. The buzz that surrounded them at that time, thanks to their sublime debut, self-titled 2022 record, had a startling momentum all of its own. But then the merry-go-round of shows and tours never seemed to end. The same album was being trotted out and bled dry without anything new added. Patience, dear reader, ran thin, and we were left wondering if a second album would ever see the light of day. We strapped ourselves in for a GnR Chinese Democracy or Stone Roses’ Second Coming-level delay. But they’re finally back.

New album, moisturizer (note the American spelling. Seems like they have sights on success across the pond), is rolling into view. The whole thing will land in early July on the horizon. They emerge blinking in front of brilliant sunshine to another huge crowd, and the party is off the chain from the get-go. Who’d have thought that the angular, off-kilter indie pop was such a recipe for utter abandonment and joy?

They look positively thrilled to be on Worthy Farm. It’s striking to see how much Rhian Teasdale has grown into the role of frontwoman. She’s a magnetic force of nature these days, knowing exactly how to summon communion and mayhem in equal measure. Riotous run-throughs of tried and tested material, such as ‘Wet Dream’, ‘Ur Mum’, ‘Angelica’ and, predictably, ‘Chaise Longue’ instil pandemonium. The new material more than holds its own, however. The set open and closes with songs from moisturizer and the album gets a healthy airing across the whole set.

Wet Leg remain a strange proposition. The type of group that feel custom made as a target for detractors. They ooze such a hipster, cooler than thou factor that it hurts your sides. They almost seem like caricatures. But the peculiar thing is that beneath the branding and posturing, cute, smart pop operators lurk. The new material is evidence of a group growing into themselves, channelling a punk-meets-alt rock fuzz. There’s a fire in their belly. Tightened by the miles on the clock amassed by tirelessly touring, they are musically tight and palpably energised by their new gems. They’re just getting started, and on this form, we’re all in for a treat. Judging by the rapturous applause the ran throughout their pulsating set, Glastonbury certainly thought so too.