Cartwheel: Hotline TNT’s Sweeping Shoegaze Journey of Love and Heartbreak

Hotline TNT is helmed by Will Anderson (on the right), but the interplay between him and fellow guitarist Olivia Garner (second from right) has come to define the band’s massive, shoegaze-influenced wall of sound.
Will Anderson was teaching at a New York high school—until Jack White’s record label came knocking. Now, his band is shooting into the shoegaze stratosphere behind their second record, Cartwheel.
Hotline TNT singer and guitarist Will Anderson started writing songs as a way to work through personal relationships, so it’s no surprise that the New York band’s second LP, Cartwheel, encapsulates Anderson’s modern-day, bard-like quest for romance—for better and for worse—through heavy fuzz pedals, distorted guitars, and layered sonic textures that cascade over propulsive rhythms. Slick engineering from punk artist Ian Teeple and Aron Kobayashi Ritch lift the record into the sweeping shoegaze stratosphere, that bottomless niche of music where heartbreak and mammoth, verbed-out riffs cry on each other’s shoulders.
Each of the 12 tracks on Cartwheel features enormous guitar sounds from Anderson and guitarist Olivia Garner that, together, comprise a thrashing, muddy, angry, joyful, and howling slurry, as if the instruments were in the thralls of a cathartic musical bender. Above it all, Anderson’s simply written lyrics map out tart terrain—anyone who has experienced the throes of love in all of its messy stages will recognize themselves in his words.
Anderson, who is originally from Wisconsin, launched his music career 10 years ago with the Canadian noise-pop band, Weed, before eventually launching Hotline TNT in 2021 with the project’s debut, Nineteen in Love. Anderson traversed music scenes from coast to coast—New York and North Carolina, Wisconsin and neighboring Minnesota, Vancouver and Seattle—and his DIY dedication helped grow Hotline TNT’s audience until the band caught the attention of Jack White’s Third Man Records. Thanks in part to the label’s support, Cartwheel transcends the band’s 2021 introduction, infusing more engaging, heartfelt melodies without losing any of the band’s trademark grinding urgency.
Hotline TNT - "Protocol"
Inspired by his older brother’s jazz band, Anderson started playing bass towards the end of his time in the fifth grade. Within a few years, he’d picked up the guitar, and by high school, he was playing in cover bands with his brother. His college years marked his first attempts at songwriting, a process which, for Anderson, starts with chords and melodies, then lyrics.
Up until signing with Third Man, Anderson had been supplementing his music work with substitute teaching at a public high school in New York City. One of his colleagues had been in the Scottish rock band Teenage Fanclub, and, knowing the difficulty of being a working musician, covered for Anderson at some points so he could work on Hotline TNT matters.
“Whenever I hold a pick, my wrist gets really tight, and I just think, ‘no.’” —Will Anderson
Garner, meanwhile, started playing guitar in middle school in Louisiana. Her dad’s favorite band was the Smiths, which imprinted heavily on her while growing up. But these days, she’s reaching for Neil Young and Crazy Horse, ’90s material like Red House Painters, or ’80s pop band Beat Happening—one of Kurt Cobain’s favorites, Garner notes, and “a band who every person who picks up the guitar should listen to.” (Her other band, in fact, is named Touch Girl Apple Blossom, inspired by lyrics from the Beat Happening track “Indian Summer.”) It’s a mix that makes sense for Hotline TNT’s woolly, melodic maelstrom.
Hotline TNT's Gear
Anderson and Garner aren’t very particular about their gear—Anderson didn’t know what an amp head was until a few years ago—but they favor the fuzzy balance between a Pro Co RAT and an EHX Big Muff.
Photo by Wes Knoll
Guitars
- Yamaha SG-3
- 1996 MIJ Fender Telecaster with Lollar pickups
- 2014 MIM Fender Strat with Lollar pickups
Amps
- Randall RX120RH
Effects
- Pro Co RAT
- EHX Big Muff Pi
Strings
- Ernie Ball Super Slinky Nickel Wound (.009–.042)
Garner now lives in Austin, where Hotline TNT played at SXSW this year. “Will and I run around in similar circles of music,” she says, “so when Hotline TNT was looking for a guitar player, I came to New York and rehearsed with them. It was a good fit, so I joined. It’s been a wild ride.”
Garner acquired her main guitar—a natural finish, short-scale Peavey T-30—from a former bandmate in an upgrade from her previous Squier. “It’s my baby,” she says. “What I like about it is that it’s really lightweight, so no back problems, and I appreciate the short scale.”
“Despite the fact that this particular guitar has been with me for so long, I’m actually not that precious with it.” —Will Anderson
Anderson’s primary guitar is a vintage Japanese-made Yamaha SG-3 that he bought in Vancouver when he was 19. “These days, Yamaha SG-3s go for $2,500 in the high range, but I bought my guitar for about $788 in Vancouver from a music store called Not Just Another Music Shop,” he says. “At the time, I just thought it looked cool. Because I couldn’t afford to buy it outright, I made payments on it all summer long before I could take it home.” Anderson’s SG-3-driven leads on Cartwheel, by the way, are all straight from his fingers. “I do not play with a pick—never have,” he notes. “I get a lot of comments about this at shows. Whenever I hold a pick, my wrist gets really tight, and I just think, ‘no.’”
All three Hotline TNT guitarists, Will Anderson, Olivia Garner, and Matt Berry, come together on Cartwheel to create an entrancing blend of textural distortion under Anderson’s romance-inspired lyrics.
Despite his allegiance to his Yamaha, Anderson admits that he’s actually not all that sentimental about the instrument. The thing he loves best about the SG-3 doesn’t have to do with tone or playability—it’s that it still performs after years of abuse. “Despite the fact that this particular guitar has been with me for so long, I’m actually not that precious with it,” he says. “If something happened to it, I’d be sad, sure, but I’d also think, ‘Alright, it’s time to find a new one.’”
Still, when it comes to travel, Anderson doesn’t take many chances with his guitar. “Overseas, I usually put my guitar on a gig bag that I carry on my back when I board the plane,” he says. “I pretty much talk my way into things and out of things when it comes to dealing with travel.”
“I pretty much talk my way into things and out of things when it comes to dealing with travel.” —Will Anderson
Anderson’s love for his main axe is about as far as his gear passion goes. Though he feels an increasing sense of responsibility to improve his gear knowledge base, he confesses to being happily clueless. A few years back, he bought a solid-state Randall half-stack, which is still his go-to amp, and it provided an unexpected learning experience. “To show you how little I know about gear, two or three years ago somebody said to me, ‘Can I borrow your amp head for our set?’ I was like, ‘You can. Is it onstage now? Because I don’t know. What is that thing?’ I didn’t know what a head was until recently.”
While Anderson plucks out finer lead parts, Garner says her role is to create a “giant wall of sound” with open chords and thick distortion.
Photo by Jade Amey
Effects-wise, Anderson and Garner strike a warm balance between a Pro Co RAT, a Boss DS-1, and a Big Muff Pi that Anderson bought in high school. The interplay between the three is all over Cartwheel, but is especially prominent on “Protocol” and “BMX,” which both utilize the pedals’ respective distortions as percussive and resonant elements. The blend creates a sort of halo: It extends outward like its own multi-layered cloud strata, enveloping the lyrics in “I Thought You’d Change,” and creating an uplifting effect that counters the descending melodies in “Stump” and “Son in Law.”
The goal, says Garner, is to create “a giant wall of sound with big, giant chords.” “I hold down the big chords while Will will do his leads,” she says. One of Anderson’s oldest friends, Matt Berry, recently joined the band, completing a triple-guitar threat. (Berry serves as de facto guitar tech for the band, even changing Anderson’s strings.)
“I pretty much talk my way into things and out of things when it comes to dealing with travel.” —Will Anderson
Hotline TNT isn’t Anderson’s only outlet. He’s morphed his extracurricular interests into a hydra-esque presence online, which includes hosting both a Twitch stream and an Instagram talk show, and publishing a basketball zine. “It’s all about feeding the same vision and aesthetic,” says Anderson. “People seem to be rocking with it, so that’s cool.”
Will Anderson was teaching at a New York high school before Jack White’s Third Man Records signed Hotline TNT.
Photo by Jade Amey
But his other endeavors might have to be set on the backburner this year, as Hotline TNT’s stock is rising. They spent much of 2023 on the road, but this time out, they had a better van and sleeping accommodations. Even if they didn’t, though, Anderson wouldn’t mind. Touring feels like home—especially if he gets to see the midwest in the fall. Early this year, Hotline TNT is ripping through mainland Europe—including Italy, France, and Germany—and later, they’ll hit Japan, a personal highlight for Anderson. In line with their laissez-faire approach to gear, Anderson says they plan to leave their gear at home, and pick up fill-ins overseas to make sure they don’t run into international voltage variance issues.
Anderson currently has six demos in the hopper toward his next album. Usually, he says he’d already have another record ready to go, but Hotline TNT’s explosion in popularity has kept them busy on the road, and working with Third Man has flooded the band with exciting opportunities. But Anderson does have a shortlist of people to work with for the next release, and a rough sketch of the collection’s themes: relationships, heartbreak, and family.
But don’t expect to learn what the band’s name means any time soon. “It does stand for something, but I cannot reveal publicly what it is because me and the original members of the band from four years ago came up with it,” says Anderson. “It’s our sacred vow to keep that a secret.”
YouTube It
Bathe in colored stage lights and sweet, thick distortion with Hotline TNT’s live performance in Toronto in March 2023.
Columnist Janek Gwizdala with heroes Dennis Chambers (left) and Mike Stern (right).
Keeping your gigging commitments can be tough, especially when faced with a call from a hero. But it’s always the right choice.
Saying “yes!” to everything early on has put me in a place now where I can say no to almost everything and still be okay. That wasn’t without its challenges. I’d like to share a story about a “yes” that would haunt me for years.
As bass players, we can, if we choose, quite easily find ourselves in a wide variety of situations without having to change much about our sound or our playing. If your time is good and you’re able to help those around you feel good and sound better, the telephone will pretty much always ring.
Playing jazz as an electric-bass player living in New York City from 2000 to 2010 was somewhat of a fool’s errand in terms of getting work. No one wanted electric bass, and bandleaders would go to the bottom of a list of 100 upright players before they would even think about calling you. Not only that, but I wasn’t even at the top of the electric list when I first moved there. Not even close. Anthony Jackson, Richard Bona, Will Lee, Tim Lefebvre, James Genus, Lincoln Goines, Mike Pope, John Benitez, Matthew Garrison—that’s a who’s who of the instrument when I first moved to town, and I was very much a freshman with almost no experience. Almost…
I’d been lucky enough to play extensively with Kenwood Dennard (Jaco’s drummer), and a little with Hiram Bullock (Jaco’s guitarist) before moving to NYC which helped create a little momentum, but only a VERY little.
This is where the story begins:
I’d sent Mike Stern a demo back in late ’97. He’d not only taken the time to listen to it but had called my parents’ house right after I moved to the U.S. to tell me he loved it and wanted to hang. I missed the call but eventually met him at a clinic he gave at Berklee.
Of course, I was buzzing about all of this. It helped me stay laser-focused on practice and on moving to NYC as soon as possible. I got the typical “look me up when you get to town” invitation from Stern and basically counted the seconds through the three semesters I stayed at Berklee until I could split town.
I arrived with a ton of confidence but zero gigs. And nothing happened overnight. It really took saying yes to literally everything I was offered just to keep a roof over my head. Through that process, I felt like I was getting further away from playing with my jazz heroes.
The early gigs were far from glamorous—long hours, terrible pay, and sometimes, after travel expenses, they cost me money to play.
“Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do.”
When Stern finally called, a few years into living in NYC, things started to move pretty quickly. I began playing a lot of gigs at the 55 Bar with him, and short road trips became a thing—a four-night stint at Arturo Sandoval’s new club in Miami, gigs in Chicago, Cleveland, and upstate New York, and then some international work, including a tour of Mexico and a trip to Brazil, if I remember right.
But the hardest phone call of my career came from Mike not long into my time touring with him. It went something like this:
“Hey man, what’s your scene in April? Lincoln can’t make a trip to the West Coast. It’s just one gig. Trio… with DENNIS CHAMBERS.”
Mike didn’t shout Dennis’ name, but that’s how I heard it. My all-time hero. Someone I’d been dreaming about playing with for over 15 years. And here’s the kicker: I had to say no.
I’d just committed to six weeks with Jojo Mayer’s band Nerve in Asia and Europe, and there was no way I could bail on him. And there was no way I could afford to ditch six weeks of work for a single gig with Mike. To say that haunted me for years is an understatement. I was destroyed that I had to turn it down.
The tour with Jojo was amazing—the posters hang in my studio as a reminder of those times to this day. And thankfully, I was able to go on some years later and play dozens of shows with Mike and Dennis all over the world—truly some of the highlights of my career.
I still think about that phone call, though. Whenever I have a single moment of doubt, I think about the time I had to say no to my heroes—the reasons I moved to America, the reason I do what I do. I get emotional writing and thinking about it even now. But I've learned to never have regrets and understand you just have to believe in the process and maintain the willpower to continue—no matter what.
New RAT Sound Solution Offers a Refined Evolution of Distortion
ACT Entertainment ’s iconic RAT brand has unveiledthe Sterling Vermin, a boutique distortion guitar pedal that blends heritage tone with modernrefinement. With a new take on RAT’s unmistakable sound, Sterling Vermin delivers a new levelof precision and versatility.
“The Sterling Vermin was born from a desire for something different — something refined, withthe soul of a traditional RAT pedal, but with a voice all its own,” says Shawn Wells, MarketManager—Sound, ACT Entertainment, who designed the pedal along with his colleague MattGates. “Built in small batches and hand-soldered in ACT’s Jackson, Missouri headquarters, theSterling Vermin is a work of pure beauty that honors the brand legacy while taking a bold stepforward for creativity.”
The Sterling Vermin features the LM741 Op-Amp and a pair of selectable clipping diodes.Players can toggle between the traditional RAT silicon diode configuration for a punchy, mid-range bite, or the BAT41 option for a smoother, more balanced response. The result is a pedalthat’s equally at home delivering snarling distortion or articulate, low-gain overdrive, with a wide,usable tonal range throughout the entire gain spectrum.
The pedal also features CTS pots and oversized knobs for even, responsive control that affordsa satisfying smoothness to the rotation, with just the right amount of tension. Additionally, thepolished stainless-steel enclosure with laser-annealed graphics showcases the merging of thepedal’s vintage flavor and striking design.
“From low-gain tones reminiscent of a Klon or Bluesbreaker, to high-gain settings that flirt withBig Muff territory — yet stay tight and controlled — the Sterling Vermin is a masterclass indynamic distortion,” says Gates, an ACT Entertainment Sales Representative. “With premiumcomponents, deliberate design and a focus on feel, the Sterling Vermin is more than a pedal, it’sa new chapter for RAT.”
The RAT Sterling Vermin is available immediately and retails for $349 USD. For moreinformation about this solution, visit: actentertainment.com/rat-distortion .
The Miku was introduced about 10 years ago and is based on the vocal stylings of Hatsune Miku, a virtual pop icon. But it does much more than artificial vowels and high-pitched words.
It’s tempting to think of this pedal as a joke. Don’t.
It all started a few years ago through a trade with a friend. I just wanted to help him out—he really wanted to get a fuzz pedal but didn’t have enough cash, so he offered up the Korg Miku. I had no idea then, but it turned out to be the best trade I’ve ever made.
Here’s the truth: the Korg Miku is not your typical guitar pedal. It won’t boost your mids, sculpt your gain, or serve up that warm, buttery overdrive you’ve always worshipped. Nope. This little box does something entirely different: It sings! Yes, sings in a Japanese kawaii accent that’s based on the signature voice of virtual pop icon Hatsune Miku.
At first glance, it’s tempting to dismiss this pedal as just a gimmick—a joke, a collector’s oddity, the kind of thing you buy for fun and then forget next to your Hello Kitty Strat. But here’s the twist: Some take it seriously and I’m one of those people.
I play in a punk band called Cakrux, and lately I’ve been working with a member of a Japanese idol-style girl group—yeah, it’s exactly the kind of wild mashup you’d ever imagine. Somewhere in the middle of that chaos, the Miku found its way into my setup, and weirdly enough, it stuck. It’s quirky, beautiful, occasionally maddening, and somehow … just right. After plenty of time spent in rehearsals, studio takes, and more sonic experiments than I care to admit, I’ve come to appreciate this pedal in unexpected ways. So here are a few things you probably didn’t know about this delightfully strange little box.
It’s Not Organic—and That’s OK
Most guitar pedals are chasing something real. Wah pedals mimic the human voice—or even a trumpet. Tube Screamers? They’re built to recreate the warm push of an overdriven tube amp. Cab sims aim to replicate the tone of real-world speaker setups. But the Miku? It breaks the mold. Instead of emulating reality, it channels the voice of a fictional pop icon. Hatsune Miku isn’t a person—she’s a vocaloid, a fully digital creation made of samples and synthesis. The Miku doesn’t try to sound organic, it tries to sound like her. In that sense, it might be the only pedal trying to reproduce something that never existed in the physical world. And honestly, there’s something oddly poetic about that.
A World-Class Buffer
Here’s a fun fact: I once saw a big-name Indonesian session guitarist—you know, the kind who plays in sold-out arenas—with a Miku pedal on his board. I was like, “No way this guy’s busting out vocaloid lines mid-solo.” Plot twist: He only uses it for the buffer. Yep, the man swears by it and says it’s the best-sounding buffer he’s ever plugged into. I laughed … until I tried it. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Even if you never hear Miku sing a note, this pedal still deserves a spot on your board. Just for the tone mojo alone. Wild, right?
“The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn’t work for your music, but somehow, it just does.”
Impossible to Tame
Most pedals are built to make your life easier. The Miku? Not so much. This thing demands patience—and maybe a little spiritual surrender. First off, the tracking can be finicky, especially if you’re using low-output pickups. Latency becomes really noticeable and your picking dynamics suddenly matter a lot more. Then there’s the golden rule I learned the hard way. Never—ever—put anything before the Miku. No fuzz, no wah, no compressor, not even a buffer! It gets confused instantly and says “What is going on here?” And don’t even think about punching in while recording. The vocal results are so unpredictable, you’ll never get the same sound twice. Mess up halfway? You’re starting from scratch. Same setup, same take, same chaotic energy. It’s like trying to recreate a fever dream. Good luck with that.
Full Range = Full Power
Sure, it’s made for guitar, but the Miku really comes to life when you run it through a keyboard amp, bass cab, or even a full-range speaker. Why? Because her voice covers way more frequency range than a regular guitar speaker can handle. Plug it into a PA system or a bass rig, and everything sounds clearer, richer, way more expressive. It’s like letting Hatsune Miku out of her cage.
The Miku is one of those pedals that really shouldn't work for your music, but somehow, it just does. Is it the best pedal out there? Nah. Is it practical? Not by a long shot. But every time I plug it in, I can’t help but smile. It’s unpredictable, a little wild, and it feels like you’re jamming in the middle of a bizarre Isekai anime scene. And honestly, that’s what makes it fun.
This thing used to go for less than $100. Now? It’s fetching many times that. Is it worth the price? That’s up to you. But for me, the Korg Miku isn’t just another pedal—it’s a strange, delightful journey I’m glad I didn’t skip. No regrets here.
Two guitars, two amps, and two people is all it takes to bring the noise.
The day before they played the coveted Blue Room at Third Man Records in Nashville, the Washington, D.C.-based garage-punk duo Teen Mortgage released their debut record, Devil Ultrasonic Dream. Not a bad couple of days for a young band.
PG’s Chris Kies caught up with guitarist and vocalist James Guile at the Blue Room to find out how he builds the band’s bombastic guitar attack.
Brought to you by D’Addario.
Devilish Dunable
Guile has been known to use Telecasters and Gretsches in the past, but this time out he’s sticking with this Dunable Cyclops DE, courtesy of Gwarsenio Hall—aka Jordan Olds of metal-themed comedy talk show Two Minutes to Late Night. Guile digs the Dunable’s lightness on his shoulders, and its balance of high and low frequencies.
Storm Warning
What does Guile like about this Squier Cyclone? Simple: its color. This one is also nice and easy on the back, and Guile picked it up from Atomic Music in Beltsville, Maryland.
Crushing It
Guile also scooped this Music Man 410-HD from Atomic, which he got just for this tour for a pretty sweet deal. It runs alongside an Orange Crush Bass 100 to rumble out the low end.
James Guile’s Pedalboard
The Electro-Harmonix Micro POG and Hiwatt Filter Fuzz MkII run to the Orange, while everything else—a DigiTech Whammy, Pro Co Lil’ RAT, and Death by Audio Echo Dream 2—runs to the Music Man. A TC Helicon Mic Mechanic is on board for vocal assistance, and a TC Electronic PolyTune 3, Morley ABY, and Voodoo Labs Pedal Power 3 Plus keep the ship afloat.