There’s a track on Wet Leg’s debut album that toys with that riff from Bowie’s The Man Who Sold the World. A testament to how slick this rising Isle of Wight duo really are, on I Don’t Wanna Go Out they make what’s now a timelessly familiar melody sound thrilling, vital and new – with a puckish wink.

Since emerging as Wet Leg last year, Rhian Teasdale and Hester Chambers have become one of the most hyped new acts in the UK and beyond, with their quasi-satirical post-punk and cute-but-spooky, cottagecore aesthetic. Their first two singles alone got them signed to indie giant Domino, and they followed their release with a quickly sold-out UK tour. Those initial tracks are certainly among the most taut of their offerings. The off-beat Chaise Longue, with its nonchalant sprechgesang, enlists Mean Girls-inspired playfulness (“would you like us to assign someone to butter your muffin?”). The colourful chanting of Wet Dream, punctuated by bawdy takedowns of an ex (“what makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself?”), is propelled by a youthful abandon that only Wet Leg can get right.

But at the heart of Wet Leg is a remarkable ability to be droll, even in moments of high emotion. The seemingly gentle breakup song Loving You tempers its sweetness with lines like “I don’t want to have to be someone you want to marry, fuckin’ hell”, and the hazy warmth of Supermarket ends in high-pitched singing reminiscent of actual dolphin calls.

The band have said they mainly just want to have fun, and even amid tales of heartbreak, they’ve certainly succeeded. Armed with crunchy guitars and melodiously deadpan vocals, Wet Leg speaks to a distinctly British tendency to make running jokes out of uncomfortable situations and to intensely long for something you can’t quite put your finger on.

Tara Joshi