From Dublin to The Croc: Sprints in Full Fury
Walking into the Crocodile felt less like a venue and more like a pressure chamber; sweat, noise, and adrenaline building until Sprints walked out and detonated the room. It was an early Saturday show but that didn’t stop the energy from climbing high in the sold-out room. The Dublin four‑piece – Karla Chubb (vocals/guitar), Colm O’Reilly (guitar), Sam McCann (bass), and Jack Callan (drums) – have been carving their way through the post‑punk landscape for years, but this Seattle stop felt like a band stepping fully into their power. It was Valentine’s Day, but the only love language exchanged was volume, velocity, and community.
The band was in town for the final night of their U.S. tour supporting their acclaimed second album, All That Is Over. We’ve been trying to catch them live for a couple years and we’re so happy the stars finally aligned. Sprints feels a little closer to the city now as they’ve signed with the legendary Sub Pop Records for this release. They also stopped by KEXP for a gathering space session earlier today making it feel even more like they belong here.
Sprints made their way to the stage and fans cheered on knowing this was going to be unforgettable. Chubb walked out with the confidence of a lion ready to feast. Wearing an Adidas soccer jersey, a black tutu skirt and the coolest shades all eyes focused on her. After a few songs she was already walking the rail that divides the 21+ and all‑ages sections, balancing with the confidence of someone who knows the room already belongs to her. Then she jumped straight into the crowd, disappearing into a sea of hands before reappearing in the center of a forming circle pit. She sang from inside it, moshing with everyone, her mic cord trailing behind her like a fuse. It was one of those moments where the barrier between performer and audience dissolves completely, and you realize you’re watching a frontwoman who doesn’t just lead a room, she inhabits it.
From there, the night only escalated. Chubb made her way to the back bar, breathless and grinning, and politely asked the bartender for a glass of wine. “Be nice and tip your bartenders,” she reminded the crowd, raising the glass like a toast before climbing onto the bar itself. From that vantage point she commanded the entire venue, telling everyone to move closer, to close the gaps, to become one body. Then she jumped, launching herself into the crowd and crowd‑surfing all the way back to the stage.
What makes Chubb extraordinary isn’t just the chaos; it’s the control. She never loses a single person. She’s a true frontwoman; magnetic, fearless, and deeply intentional. Watching her create a space and hold everyone inside it felt like witnessing leadership in its rawest form.
Between songs, she opened up about the band’s journey. “We wrote our second album mostly in the States,” she said, “and it was the first time we were able to be musicians full‑time.” It’s been so fantastic to be on the road with this album and play so many places. Community, the arts, and hope, that’s what we’ve experienced on this tour, and it’s been a revelation. We started in Minneapolis, and it reminded us how important community and music are to get through this ugly mess. It’s our intention to do something with our privilege, to make music and make noise that matters.”
That ethos pulsed through the entire set. Sprints’ sound which is raw, urgent, serrated, felt even sharper live. They tore through tracks, highlights including, “Heavy,” “Descartes,” “How Does The Story Go?” “Adore Adore Adore,” “Beg,” and “Pieces.” O’Reilly’s guitar work snarled, McCann’s bass shook the floorboards, and Callan’s drumming was a relentless engine. But it was Chubb’s voice – ragged, righteous, and unflinchingly honest – that anchored everything.
For the final song “Little Fix,” she invited a crowd of people onto the stage. Suddenly the Crocodile was overflowing – fans dancing, shouting, moving with the band in a chaotic, joyful mass. It felt like a celebration of everything she’d spoken about; community, connection, resistance, hope. The room was vibrating with it.
More of this is what the scene needs. More bands who lead with intention. More frontwomen who pour charisma into a room until it overflows. More nights where the line between performer and audience disappears and everyone becomes part of something bigger.
