It’s been about 18 months since Sprints released their debut album, ‘Letter to Self’. A collection of tracks rooted in vocalist and guitarist Karla Chubb’s personal experiences and social commentary, it laid a solid foundation for the group and packed out the year ahead with shows. The road unwound endlessly before them, nights turning into days, into nights again. Somewhere along the way, they became an even closer-knit team.

Nostalgia has already started to creep in, even though it’s only been a year. “It’s a period of your life that you look back on, like your favourite band when you were younger,” says bassist Sam McCann. “It reminds me of a different time, even though it wasn’t that long ago, but we’ve done a lot since it came out.”

“I think it’s such a scrapbook of everything that came before that point,” Karla adds. “It was everything up until then, and a lot of things we felt needed to be spoken about. But there’s this overwhelming sense of nostalgia I get because it feels quite calm as well. That chapter of Sprints is over. The music now feels really like us, but again, ask me for album three and I’ll be like, nah, this is us,” she laughs.

Out of all this reflection comes their second album, ‘All That Is Over’.

Speaking to the band, currently spread across Paris in hotel rooms and laundromats, life remains chaotic and in motion. It’s the exact state they’ve dreamt of since forming in Dublin in 2019. Initially comprising Karla, drummer Jack Callan and guitarist Colm O’Reilly, they later added Sam, releasing two EPs via tastemaker label Nice Swan Records (also once home to English Teacher, DEADLETTER and Sports Team). Their sound, raw, post-punk, garage-rock energy, has since been sharpened into something more honed, more patient, more potent, like a predator biding its time.

Going from part-timers to full-time band life included a tremendous amount of growth, particularly for Karla. “I used to be very nervous about performing,” she admits. “And there are still moments, like Glastonbury, where I get anxious. But the only way through it is by doing it. You’ve got to put your big girl pants on and get out there because people are waiting. They’ve paid to see you. You become very conscious of your actions and how they affect everyone. We’re a little family now. Living on the road together changes everything.”

It’s also meant confronting being a woman in music, still an invitation for online commentary. “Even today, I saw a TikTok comment like, ‘She’s not even playing chords, just an open string...’ I’m like, it’s called a fucking riff, man!” she cackles. “But I can laugh now. I don’t feel like I have to prove myself anymore, I’m confident in my abilities, I’m confident in the boys, and I’m just happy we’re doing this.”

That clarity didn’t arrive overnight. “It was like climbing up a steep set of stairs for the last few years. One day, I realised I’d opened a door and stepped into a room full of just myself,” she says. “It’s freeing. I really couldn’t give a fuck anymore. You saw the comment? Cool, you still watched it.”

“It’s not nice when someone close to you takes that stuff to heart,” Sam adds. “You try to say ‘don’t give a fuck’, but that never works. So it’s fantastic now. Hopefully, none of us go back to that place.”

The past year saw them play 103 shows and build a team from the ground up. Most significantly, it saw the departure of Colm. Finding the lifestyle too intense, he left the group. Zac Stephenson, initially brought in as a guest guitarist, became a full-time member after a fiery trial by The Great Escape.

“I knew Sprints pretty inside out,” Zac explains. “So it felt easy. I knew what a Sprints song was, and what direction we were all feeling. It was very seamless.”

“There was a bit of a sense of, we can survive anything,” Karla says. “A lot of the fear, the impostor syndrome, especially for me, started to fade. With Zac joining, it was like, we’re a meal, and he’s a whole new ingredient. A new brain to bounce ideas off.”

‘All That Is Over’ doubles down on what makes Sprints great but also pushes them outward. Tracks brim with tension, ‘Abandon’ opens the album in a slow-burn brood, much like ‘Ticking’ did on their debut, but with more bite. Elsewhere, ‘To The Bones’ strips things back, ‘Descartes’ barrels forward, and closer ‘Desire’ spirals into a six-minute spaghetti western of a closer. “It became this amazing, cowboy, spaghetti western thing,” Karla grins.

“The second album just came about super naturally. It was born in soundchecks and on buses and planes. It came together without us even really trying.” That fluidity was a shift. “The first record was written over a couple of years. A couple of tracks were even recorded for the second EP,” Jack says. “This time, Karla had been banging out demos, and we all jumped in around autumn. We were still on tour but had a limited back catalogue, so we chucked new stuff into the setlist, even if it wasn’t finished.”

“Urgency is a good word,” Karla says. “We wanted to get something out, and we were following instincts, too. The studio helped us lean into that.”

They’re aiming for the full package. Music, visuals, artwork - it all matters. “There are surprises we’ve done specifically for the physical release,” Karla says. “We don’t want the art of the album to die out. Obviously, people ask for edits, can you cut this intro? Make it more playlist-friendly? But there’s a reason that happens. We don’t want to be part of that.”

There’s a dystopian thread throughout ‘All That Is Over’, drawn from sci-fi influences, especially from Jack’s reading list. Octavia Butler, Orwell… “Like, Irish people applying for US visas now have to have their online accounts checked. That’s real,” Karla notes. “We’re not far from the stuff we used to think was mental.”

Still, the record is escapist. “We turned to music to find solace and community,” Karla continues. “It’s the thing we love most. The only thing that ever fixed a shit day was playing a show.”

Live shows are where they’ve always felt strongest, and now they know how to use them. “Our music has to be good for us to keep touring. But once we’re on stage, we use that moment to say something,” Karla says.

Despite their reluctance, the band have been labelled political. Why? “I think it’s because I sing about my life,” Karla says. “But because I’m a queer woman, it’s called political. I’ll write about body issues or being in love with a woman, and that’s branded as a political song. But it’s just my existence, and my existence happens to be considered political.”

Their list of genuinely political artists? Lambrini Girls, Kneecap. “But again, they’re just writing about what’s real for them,” Jack points out. “And it’s called political as soon as it’s released.”

“How many songs do you need to be a political band?” Sam jokes. “One per album?”

“Our early stuff was called political just because a gay woman was singing it,” Karla says. “I’d sing about wanting to get married, and it’s suddenly a grand political statement,” she laughs. “But I’m OK with it now. Call it what you want. We’ll keep writing about experience.”

Karla puts it plainly. “If you’ve got a platform, it’s your moral responsibility to use it. Like Amy Taylor from Amyl & The Sniffers said, if you don’t want politics in music, it’s not the musician’s fault.”

“I think not taking a stance is a privilege,” she adds. “To stay silent is to say something; it’s a position of fear. Or cowardice, to be honest.” She laughs. “Like Rod Stewart said, it’s better to say something stupid than say nothing at all.”

At its heart, ‘All That Is Over’ is about unity. It fights back, loud and defiant, against fear and division. “This is our first year doing it full-time. We’ve built a beautiful team, liberal, queer, trans-supporting, inclusive. But then you open your phone…” Karla trails off. “It drags you out of your bubble. You remember not everyone thinks like us.”

The last year gave them a glimpse of what’s next. Bigger rooms. Tangible results. “It’s a very addictive job,” Karla says. “You can see the payoff, ticket sales, BBC iPlayer moments, record numbers. It’s addictive in a way that’s a bit scary. You don’t want to stop.”

Stopping isn’t on the cards. “We’ve worked our asses off to get here,” Karla says. “It’s a privilege to have this platform. Not all privilege is born; some of it is earned. And we intend to leave the door open behind us so we’re not the last ones through it.” ■

Taken from the August 2025 issue of Dork. Sprints’ album ‘All That Is Over’ is out 26th September.