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Rhian Teasdale has always sung like a rock star, and now she looks like one too, her hair dyed a shocking strawberry pink, and jewels on her nails and teeth.

“This is something we’ve always played with,” says Wet Leg’s Grammy-winning frontwoman, citing the band’s 2022 single Wet Dream, the promotional film for which features Teasdale and Hester Chambers, her bandmate, looking like glamorous lobsters. “It’s a very tongue-in-cheek sexual-innuendo song. In the video I’m doing, like, these sexy body rolls, but I’m wearing lobster claws.”

Wet Dream was part of a blitz of releases that, over the space of a few months, propelled Wet Leg from alternative-playlist fodder to award-bagging stars – Rolling Stone called their eponymous debut album “the relentlessly catchy post-punk record” the world had been waiting for.

Three years later they’re back with a scintillating second LP, Moisturizer, looking very different but still making the same thrilling deadpan post-punk.

What’s changed is that Teasdale is flexing her rock-star muscles, both figuratively and literally. She has the gym-honed physique of someone who could hold her own in an MMA ring – but the real muscle has gone into the way the band present themselves.

First time around, she and Chambers were overwhelmed twentysomethings from the Isle of Wight, in southern England, still working day jobs and not sure how to negotiate the overnight fame that came their way when their single Chaise Longue went viral – leading Harry Styles to invite the pair to tour as his opening act, Dave Grohl to make a cameo appearance with them at Coachella and Barack Obama to put one of their songs on his summer playlist.

Now they feel fully in control. Moisturizer is the work of artists calling the shots and confident in the way they present themselves – musically, sartorially and philosophically.

[ Wet Leg: Triumphant debut of frosty insoucianceOpens in new window ]

“When we made the first album we took time off work,” says Teasdale, who is 32. In those early days she was still earning a living as a film stylist’s assistant. (Her credits include an Ed Sheeran video.)

“I was working on set, on commercials, and as a wardrobe assistant. I wanted to blend right into the background. It’s such a male-dominated space in the film industry. My life, outside of school, up until that point when we started Wet Leg, is just … you have no time for self-expression. You have no money.”

Moisturizer is one of those great second LPs that land like bigger, brighter, more confident versions of the music that made the artists so beloved the first time around.

The point is underscored by the romping Pixies-meets-Motörhead single CPR and the student-disco blitzkrieg Catch These Fists, which features pummelling riffs and lyrics to match (“I don’t want your love/ I just want to fight”).

The latter is about dealing with unwanted male attention, its key line being “Don’t approach me, I just want to dance with my friends”. But Moisturizer is also threaded through with the same subversive humour that prompted Teasdale to dress like a “sexy lobster” in the Wet Dream video while delivering lines such as, “you climb on to the bonnet and you’re licking the windscreen/ I’ve never seen anything so obscene.”

That vibe is epitomised by the cover of Moisturizer, an unsettling photograph of Teasdale with a hideous AI-generated smile as Chambers, her back to the camera, flexes monster claws.

The image is disconcerting in the conflicting emotions it evokes. Teasdale radiates rock-star mystique while looking like something that has crawled from your worst nightmare. She enjoys the duality, the “sugary sweetness of the cover, having it juxtaposed with this creepy AI smile and the long fingernails” – and you have to regard the artwork in the context of things she’s said about being objectified as a woman in the spotlight, including the creepy middle-aged men who spend entire Wet Leg gigs filming on their phones.

The photograph’s “kind of sexy, disgusting” combination fits in with Wet Leg’s long enjoyment of unsettling their audience. In the Chaise Longue video, Teasdale and Chambers dress like characters from a folk horror movie; Chambers’s features are concealed behind a giant wicker hat, so there’s a real chill when she delivers the song’s whispered refrain of “What?” Similarly, performing at the Brit Awards in 2023, they were accompanied by Morris dancers from the Isle of Wight.

“One of the fun things about being in a band is your opportunity to create a world around the music,” Teasdale says. “When you watch a film and you like the soundtrack it gives you so much.

“I just watched 28 Years Later” – Danny Boyle’s zombie-themed folk horror. “The soundtrack to that film, it’s everything for me. The opportunity to serve up your music with imagery is such an important part of it. It can completely change the way that you hear something.”

They recorded the new album with Dan Carey, the Fontaines DC producer. As with the Dublin group, Wet Leg weren’t overawed by the challenge of following up an acclaimed debut. Teasdale’s philosophy is that it’s better to crack on than obsess about making a perfect second LP.

“Sometimes your best ideas are the first ideas,” she says. In the studio, accordingly, they made an effort not to second-guess themselves. “You can censor yourself out of something that’s a bit weird and that’s the magic secret sauce. There can be a lot of pressure if you overthink it. We were, like, ‘Let’s rip the Band-Aid off.’ We managed to keep it fun. But in a way of, ‘Let’s keep the pace up.’”

Teasdale and Chambers, who met studying music, had been in and out of bands through their early 20s. They decided to start Wet Leg for a lark while sitting on a Ferris wheel – and were soon conquering indiedom one chunky riff at a time.

They initially presented themselves as a duo, with their backing band comprising a trio of shaggy indie boys for hire (Joshua Mobaraki on guitar, Ellis Durand on bass and Henry Holmes on drums). Second time around, those background musicians are now fully signed-up band members.

Chambers has made a conscious decision to retreat into the background, the better to navigate her social anxiety.

“Starting the band together … that will always be a very important part of our story,” Teasdale says. “When we signed with Domino we signed as the two of us, and we went on tour, and we took our friends with us. Experiencing all the things that we have together, we have naturally developed into a five-piece.

“We’ve learned things along the way of what we do and don’t like doing and what comes with being in a band – which, of course, we had no real understanding of.”

Chambers’s decision to step back was a result of their experiences as musicians in the spotlight, according to Teasdale.

“We had no idea this thing was going to snowball in the way that it did. We started the band because we wanted to play some shows together and write music together.

“You don’t think about all the other things that go along with it, like an online presence and people being able to comment and pick you apart, and all of the promo that goes along with it – having to speak about your music and dissect why you’ve done this or why you’ve done that.”

For all the ferocity of the music, a seam of sweetness runs through tracks such as Davina McCall, with its chorus of “Days end too soon/ When I’m with you”. That’s a reflection of where Teasdale is in her personal life and her relationship with her nonbinary significant other.

“I’m someone who wears their heart on their sleeve quite a lot, for better or for worse,” she says. “I am very, very in love. I’m obsessed with my partner.”

Teasdale is chatty and pleasant, but a slight chill descends when she’s asked if she has any regrets about writing Ur Mum, a scorched-earth number from their first album that carpet-bombed a former romantic partner with its unsparing lyrics – “When I think about what you’ve become/ I feel sorry for your mum.”

The song is believed to be about Teasdale’s ex-boyfriend – and former Wet Leg member – Doug Richards, who has said that the tune hurt his feelings, largely because his mother had died shortly before he and Teasdale began their relationship. “I realise she wrote these lyrics during the heat of a break-up, but she could have come and told me about it after, given me a heads-up at least,” he told the Sunday Times.

Teasdale did later voice misgivings. “It’s a bit harsh,” she told the Independent. “‘I feel sorry for your mum’ is a very mean thing to say.”

Today, however, she says, “I don’t have any regrets. Why would I have regrets?”

[ Wet Leg at Electric Picnic 2023: Smart, punchy, shin-kicking pop from Rhian Teasdale and Hester ChambersOpens in new window ]

She may not have misgivings over Ur Mum, but Wet Leg have learned a great deal in the run-up to the new LP. One of the lessons is that, if the whole world wants a bit of you, there comes a time when you have to put your foot down. Say yes to everything – every gig offer, every interview request – and soon you’ll be running on empty.

That’s exactly what happened to Wet Leg in September 2022, when exhaustion led to them cancelling several shows in the United States. Second time out, they’re determined to climb Everest at their own pace.

“If I didn’t say no, I would be doing promo all day. People are trying to do their jobs, and trying to do a good job, and everyone’s working hard for us.” She skips a beat, as if reflecting on the busy year stretching ahead of Wet Leg. “It’s up to me to communicate what I’m emotionally and mentally available for. No one can guess. That’s on me.”

Moisturizer is released by Domino. Wet Leg play the All Together Now festival, in Co Waterford, July 31st-August 3rd