Between the so-called “Craic Pack” actors (Cillian Murphy, Saoirse Ronan, Barry Keoghan), a tranche of garlanded authors (Sally Rooney, Paul Lynch, Anna Burns) and the zeitgeist-dominating likes of Kneecap, Fontaines DC and CMAT, Irish culture is evidently having a moment. Sprints are delighted to be riding the wave of the “Irish renaissance”, as the Dublin band’s frontwoman Karla Chubb wryly refers to it. “We’re definitely in a good time for being Irish internationally,” nods drummer Jack Callan, before swiftly puncturing this optimistic sentiment. “I’m just waiting for it all to crash and burn now, like someone’s going to ruin it.” Chubb zeroes in on the worst-case scenario: “Paul Mescal’s going to do something terrible!”
Mercifully, at the time of writing at least, Mescal remains secure in his position as the internet’s most-wanted boyfriend – not that Sprints need to cling to their countryman’s coattails. Since forming in 2019, the band – which also features Sam McCann on bass and guitarist Zac Stephenson – have risen through rock’s ranks by gigging relentlessly with their cathartically boisterous, brutally candid post-punk. In 2023 they supported Suede on tour, finding a champion in Brett Anderson, who tended to linger side of stage during their sets. (McCann would often turn to suddenly see “a menacing black silhouette” standing there. “Like Slenderman,” says Callan.) The following year, their blistering, brooding, hook-riddled debut album, Letter to Self – which doubled as an unflinching, aphorism-strewn account of Chubb’s mental health and ADHD struggles – reached the UK Top 20. In January it was shortlisted for an RTÉ Choice music prize, Ireland’s biggest music award.
