Introducing: CHASING DOLLS

Chasing Dolls are not your average 21-year-olds. Raised in small towns across the South West and now carving out their place in Bristol’s DIY scene, the four-piece have built a reputation for chaos-fuelled gigs, underground pop-ups, and a community that follows them wherever they go. Whether it’s a skatepark jam, a festival headline, or a shutdown show that turns into a generator-powered street party, their story so far is already the stuff of legend.

This year marks a new chapter as Chasing Dolls gear up for their busiest release schedule yet. Their debut single Cobweb (recorded at Sheffield’s Steel City Studios, home to Bring Me The Horizon’s Sempiternal) drops 29th September, paving the way for more singles and a debut EP at the end of the year. With a sound that blends emo rock ’n’ roll grit, math-rock flourishes, and a raw lyrical honesty, the Dolls are quickly becoming one of the UK’s most vital new voices.

We sat down with the band to talk about their wildest gig stories, small-town roots, and how they channel both romance and rebellion into their music.

You’ve described your live shows as a whirlwind of energy, euphoria, and audience engagement. Can you share a standout or most memorable moment from one of your pop-up or shutdown gigs?

Cirencester takes the crown. We’d planned the gig for months, 100+ people turned up before doors, and within ten minutes of the first band playing the venue pulled the plug because the crowd was “too rowdy.” Instead of letting it die, we led everyone through town, called mates with a generator and speakers, and threw a pop-up party under flashing blue lights. It turned what could have been a disaster into one of the most unifying, electric nights we’ve ever had.

Growing up in the south-west and forming Chasing Dolls in your early twenties, how have your small-town roots influenced the sound and community ethos of the band?

Growing up in forgotten towns means you have to dig harder to find people like you. That desperation to connect shaped both our sound and our ethos. Everyone around us was expected to go to uni or settle into the same jobs forever — we wanted something else. The band became our escape and our way to build a community of people who felt the same. That feeling of longing and rebellion is all over our songs.

Your upcoming single Cobweb was recorded at Steel City, a studio known for iconic records like Sempiternal by Bring Me the Horizon. How did that environment shape the sound and approach for this track?

Steel City totally understood what we wanted from Cobweb. They captured the energy of the song but also gave us space to be vulnerable, which was important. Being in that environment — knowing the records that had been made there — pushed us to step up and really own the track. We even ended up landing a gig in Sheffield after a night out at a punk show, so the city and its scene definitely left its mark on us.

You mention tales of missing limbs, sold-out gigs, and other wild stories. How do these real-life experiences feed into your songwriting and performance energy?

They’re everything. When Hayden lost a finger, we had to completely rethink how we played. He jammed on a Casio keyboard through his pedals while we held it down, and then we brought Munch in on guitar — which transformed our sound. That chaos and adaptation bled straight into the songs. Our performances are basically us channelling whatever madness life throws at us into something cathartic on stage.

Chasing Dolls balances emotive melodies with thought-provoking lyricism. How do you approach combining romance, rebellion, and raw energy in your music while staying authentic as a young band?

For us, romance and rebellion aren’t opposites — they go hand in hand. Our lyrics often come from a place of wanting to understand ourselves, each other, and the world we’re in. We don’t want to write songs filled with control or hate; we’d rather channel that sense of uprising into something emotional and unifying. The raw energy comes naturally because we’re living it — we just translate that into songs people can feel as much as hear.