Toward the end of wetlegband's sweaty show at the 500-cap market.hotel on Monday night, lead singer and guitarist Rhian Teasdale holds up a red rotary phone to her ear mid-song. “I’m – I’m… I’m…” she utters in exaggerated agony, her band slowly building up the tempo, “I’m… IN LOVE!!!!” In horror at her own diagnosis, she puts her hand to her forehead in despair as her bandmates dove into the crescendo of distorted guitars. ⁠ ⁠ Around me, I am surrounded by endless couples, all of whom are participating in extremely public displays of affection: a pair of dark, curly-haired lovers slow dancing on my left; another engulfed in the arms of her beau; behind me rings the smack!ing of lips. ⁠ ⁠ But it's fitting. If Wet Leg’s first album was about the trials and tribulations of dating, finding yourself eye-rolling away from yet another unwelcome proposition, then the band’s new material is a suggestive beckoning of the hand, a pledge to falling truly, madly, deeply, head over heels.⁠ ⁠ Read de...