Due to overwhelming demand, what was originally scheduled as two separate shows, Wet Leg’s Lawn set and Japanese Breakfast’s Downstairs performance, were merged into one massive Lawn show under the Houston night sky. The result was a night that shimmered between humor and heartbreak, dance and despair, with both acts bringing their own brand of catharsis to an adoring crowd.
Amid a soft billow of fog, a giant pink clam shell appeared center stage glowing under dusky blue light as if summoned from a dream. Emerging from within was Michelle Zauner, radiant in white and guitar in hand, embodying a modern-day Venus. Opening with “Here Is Someone” from For Melancholy Brunettes (& Sad Women), Zauner instantly drew the crowd into her new sonic universe, one steeped in vulnerability, nostalgia, and quiet power.
The setlist was a thoughtful blend of new material and deep cuts from across Japanese Breakfast’s discography. A graceful run of songs from For Melancholy Brunettes set the tone for a more subdued and introspective show than usual. The mood deepened as the band revisited Soft Sounds From Another Planet, performing “Road Head,” “Boyish,” and “The Body Is a Blade”, songs that remain among the most emotionally resonant in their catalog.
Visually, the show was breathtaking. During “Posing in Bondage,” Zauner stood frozen in a halo of white light, her voice trembling with restraint as the beams pulsed in time with the song’s heartbeat rhythm. At another moment, she lifted a small lantern toward the crowd, its soft glow reflected in thousands of eyes, a simple but powerful gesture of connection and hope.
During upbeat tracks like “Honey Water” and “Slide Tackle,” Zauner danced freely across the stage, spinning, skipping, and laughing between verses. Her joy was contagious, a vivid reminder that even sadness can transform into something radiant when shared. Zauner moved swiftly between songs with little banter, creating a seamless flow that sometimes sacrificed intimacy for immersion. Still, the music spoke louder than any words could.
Japanese Breakfast closed the night with triumphant bangers like “Be Sweet,” “Paprika,” and “Diving Woman.” As Zauner returned to the glowing shell for the finale, she jumped and shouted into the night with euphoric abandon. The crowd answered in kind, voices rising together in one final, collective exhale.
For all its melancholy, the show felt deeply restorative, proof that grief and joy can coexist, and that from heartbreak comes art of the purest kind. Michelle Zauner has not just built a concert, she’s built a healing ritual in motion. As the lights faded and the fog returned, one thing was certain: every sad woman in Houston left feeling just a little more whole.
Then to wrap up the night with some high energy, Wet Leg took the stage. The energy was immediate and bold. Opening with their gritty, assertive single “Catch These Fists,” the quintet, now expanded from the original duo, wasted no time staking their claim on a powerful new chapter in their sound.
Rhian Teasdale prowled the stage with magnetic confidence, flexing her arms, flashing sardonic smiles, and delivering vocals that shifted between biting humor and raw vulnerability. New songs like “Liquidize,” “Pillow Talk,” and “Davina McCall” blended effortlessly with older fan favorites, creating a setlist that felt both forward-looking and true to the band’s eccentric core.
Sonically, the show was arresting. The newer material carried more weight and texture, guitars thicker, basslines deeper, drums sharper, yet the band never lost their signature playfulness or wit. The crowd responded in kind; during “Ur Mum,” “Wet Dream,” and especially “Chaise Longue,” voices rose into a unified roar as fans clapped and shouted along, turning the venue into a communal celebration.
One of the most striking aspects of this 2025 incarnation is how the band has matured without losing their quirks. The new songs carry a deeper emotional edge while keeping their humor sharp and self-aware. When Teasdale lifted a red rotary phone mid-song and crooned, “I’m in love,” the audience leaned in, captivated by every nuance, equal parts absurd and intimate.
Visually, the production was minimalist but powerful. Lighting shifted from neon flashes to stark shadows, mirroring the tension and release in the music. Every gesture and glance became part of the storytelling. At one point, Teasdale appeared like a phoenix dripping with pond water, newly reborn and grinning,a fitting metaphor for Wet Leg’s new, fiercer persona.
The night closed with “CPR,” a jagged and urgent anthem that felt like a declaration. Wet Leg’s chemistry was undeniable. Wet Leg stood defiant and self-assured, evolving yet unmistakably themselves.
If Wet Leg’s set was a burst of cathartic chaos, Japanese Breakfast’s was an act of quiet transcendence, two sides of the same emotional coin. Together, their combined show captured the full spectrum of feeling: humor and heartbreak, melancholy and release, irony and sincerity.
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