A welcome air of nostalgia at 9:30; Wednesday and Hotline TNT showcase expert musicianship, storytelling, and new releases to a sold-out crowd
The atmosphere at 9:30 Club was one of nervously-excited chatter between friends. The audience made up of mostly men. My husband and I snagged a primo spot in the corner of the first tier balcony, an arm’s length away from the crow’s nest where Wednesday was perched during Hotline TNT’s opening set. I had never come across Hotline, so before we hopped on the train from Arlington to DC, I flipped through their newest release Cartwheel on Spotify. On first listen, the record was serving heavy helpings of an early 90’s shoegaze-y soundtrack-to-my-hopeless-high school-life flavor. Will Anderson’s vocals reminiscent of mid-west emo pulled at my heartstrings whilst persistent, off-kilter guitar drones gave rise to a mature cathartic quality - more Ok Computer than The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place. That’s all to say, I was glad to have discovered Hotline TNT but secretly hoped that their live show would shed light on a more distinct artistic voice, their influences having come across almost without interpretation in their new studio album. I was not disappointed. Hotline TNT opened their set with the first track “Protocol” off of Cartwheel.
One of the guitarists swayed arrhythmically to the somewhat pedestrian chord progression I recognized from my earlier listening, but then, as the other two guitar parts entered, ropey layers of gorgeous, curated noise began to build. An infectious and unrestrained energy instantly transmitted to the audience, who welcomed Hotline’s sound world without hesitation. Anderson gestured the layers of sound hanging in the air as he intoned simple but arresting lyrics such as “After the fall; I pretend that it’s all; My fault.” Anderson’ s ample use of refrain in his writing allowed the audience time to steep in the emotions and sound, all of which had been fully embodied in the initial ritualistic swaying from the opening of their set. As Hotline TNT played down most of Cartwheel, I had visions of the five musicians as a grimy man iteration of the Spice Girls. Stay with me here. Aesthetically, each of them were plucked from a bygone era, almost illustrating their musical influences. The bassist dawned a dirty white tee and a trucker hat, a Get Up Kids sticker proudly displayed on the front of his instrument. Anderson was repping normcore contrasted sharply by the neon green spiderweb paint-dyed onto his shaved head.
Commenting that “3 guitars didn’t seem like enough for this next one,” the band invited lead Wednesday guitarist MJ Lenderman to the stage for a cover of “Quiet” by The Smashing Pumpkins. The militaristic uniformity of all 4 guitars was so powerful, both visually and aurally, the edges of syncopation contained within the unrelenting up-down strokes; unstoppable forward momentum, the sort that so many indie bands shy away from in favor of the interruption of flow for variety’s sake. Toward the end of their set, Hotline’s bassist quite literally turned the lens on the audience and snapped a photo of the herd of us with a cheap single-use flash camera. “Are you ready for Wednesday?!” Anderson shouted. The audience went wild. We knew Wednesday was going to be special - Pitchfork told us so (or “the p-word” as lead singer Karly Hartzman calls them). But I could have listened to Hotline TNT all night. The band closed by bringing Hartzman out for “Had 2 Try,” which Wednesday covered on their 2022 album of covers Mowing the Leaves Instead of Piling ‘em Up. A truly collaborative spirit, Hartzman sang with Anderson from the opposite side of the stage, so as not to steal the spotlight prematurely from this formidable opening act.
Wednesday opened their explosive set with “Hot Rotten Grass Smell” from their newest studio album Rat Saw God. The album is named after a book by the creator of the series Veronica Mars (he also named a season 2 episode after the book); Hartzman’s lyricism is filled with layers upon layers of references. Lap steel guitar player Xandy Chelmis drew immediate attention with his ability to nimbly adapt to Wednesday’s effortless genre-bendiness, one moment blending in with soaring guitar feedback and the next crooning poetically alongside Hartzman’s cracking alto. Most striking was the band’s profound control over their collective sound and Hartzman’s unforced vulnerability. While some songwriters seek to find beauty in the grittiness of life, Hartzman wants us to see the ugliness for what it is in order to honor our pasts and process our pain. “Heard someone died in the Planet Fitness parking lot; Fire trucks rolled in and people stood around; Hit ‘em with a dose of Narcan; Sat right up in the leaned back seat of his two-door sedan,” lyrics from “Bath County.” Hartzman’s storytelling reminded me of being maybe 10 or 11 and getting stuck listening to a weird kid in the corner of the playground. She’s telling you stories you didn’t ask to hear and maybe don’t even believe are true. She’ll keep talking even after you leave. Songs like “Turkey Vultures” accelerated anxiously while raising topics like religion and disembodiment.
There was a childlike lack of performative-ness about Hartzman as she recounted these harrowing scenes from the South, her home. She and Lenderman unceremoniously held their instruments near to amps to keep the carefully molded feedback flowing. That grit and ugliness I mentioned earlier being the aural manifestation of a subtle sadness behind the eyes, the kind that results from the fucked up things we see as kids, brains not fully matured. Hartzman traveled into the crowd for Wednesday’s beloved cover of Gary Stewart’s “She’s Actin’ Single (I’m Drinking Doubles).” The audience did their best to help her back onto the stage but she ended up taking a tumble. Hartzman’s sense of humor and moment of connection with her guitarist and partner Lenderman further endeared the audience to her. Wednesday closed their set with “Bull Believer,” an 8-minute-long rage-filled anthem and the first single the band released from Rat Saw God. Due to the physically and emotionally demanding nature of the screaming outro, there was no encore. Not to mention it’s hard to imagine what might come after Hartzman full-body shrieking “FINISH HIM” more than 10 times, followed by all sound being sucked out of the theater with power-outage immediacy. To say Wednesday has the makings of a band with true staying power wouldn’t be right - they’ve got it already. Hartzman said in an interview for Stereogum, “I would love to do this forever because it feels really, really good.” I sure hope they have a long run.
