Chinchilla on self belief, stadiums, and staying authentic

When London-born artist Chinchilla walked out on stage in June to open for Justin Timberlake at three European stadiums, the sheer scale of it all could have been overwhelming for even the most battle-hardened artists. 

Instead, the 28-year-old artist leaned into the moment. “It was my first proper stadium show,” she recalls. “I’d done one before, but it was just a single song. This was my whole set in stadiums. It was amazing.”

The sheer contrast of what followed couldn’t have been starker. Just a week later, she was back in the UK performing to 200-capacity venues packed shoulder-to-shoulder with fans. But for Chinchilla, both ends of the spectrum have their magic. 

“I don’t think anything compares to a small, intimate headline show,” she says. “Two hundred people in a room, obsessed with you, screaming every lyric – even the second verses and fillers no one normally learns. It was the biggest confidence boost. I didn’t feel like I had to perform. I could just enjoy myself with them.”

That duality – commanding stadiums one night, reveling in sweaty, close-quarters connection the next – perfectly sums up where Chinchilla stands today. An artist on the cusp of global breakthrough, yet still rooted in the raw honesty that first drove her to make music.

From home-karaoke to sold-out stadiums

Chinchilla’s musical journey begins in a place many artists know all too well: singing alone in her bedroom. 

“I used to do karaoke on YouTube all the time. Shower concerts too,” she laughs. “Jennifer Hudson was my go-to, though my voice is not really a shower voice. I’d be in there belting and my family would be like, wow.”

Despite the power of her voice, the musician tells us her early life was the opposite, starting out as the shy one among her friendship group.

“I didn’t used to speak. People would ask me questions and I’d just hide behind my mum’s leg.” That quiet exterior didn’t reflect the creative storm building inside. The turning point came at school, when her friends asked her to sing one song with their instrumental band during an assembly. 

“They asked me to join full-time after that, and I said yes. We gigged around London through our teens, and it was our whole world. Our friends would come to shows at weekends, and we lived for it.” 

The band eventually parted ways after school, but Chinchilla knew she wanted to step forward as a solo artist. “My idols were strong solo females: Beyoncé, Rihanna. I wanted to make the kind of music I’d listen to getting ready to go out. I wanted that same energy.”

So in her gap year before university, the musician made a choice that would change everything. “I taught myself to produce. I made Chinchilla. I made all my socials. I swallowed that embarrassing moment of putting a persona public, and I just wrote, like two songs a day for a year. That was my education.”

Breakthrough and reinvention

With university came new connections: management, a first label deal, and the experience of learning how the industry works. But it also brought hard lessons: teams change, contracts end, and sometimes you’re left to start again. 

“I had management for about four years, had a label, then both ended,” she recalls. “I was independent for a while, just figuring it out.”

It was in that period that lightning struck. Little Girl Gone, a track brimming with unapologetic bite, exploded online and ended up in Netflix’s Hostage. 

“I’ve had a few crazy good syncs, and they’re one of my favourite parts of music,” she says. “I love cinematic, dramatic music. A lot of my inspiration comes from film: Quentin Tarantino, spaghetti westerns, that sort of vibe. With Hostage, my song came in right at the last shot, cut to black. I got goosebumps watching it.”

That sync, paired with the viral traction of the song, transformed her trajectory. New management came on board, another label deal followed, and her career was back on a steep upward climb. It was proof, she says, that resilience pays off. 

“It’s been wild. But here we are, two years later, still going.”

Heartbreak, honesty, and Ok As I Am

If Little Girl Gone was the moment the world first really paid attention, Ok As I Am is the sound of an artist unafraid to expose her most vulnerable side. The single – piano-led one moment, raw and jagged the next – came straight from the chaos of heartbreak. 

“My emotions were everywhere, and the song reflects that. The verses are piano-led and beautiful, then suddenly I’m angry, then raw again. Emotions aren’t linear, and I don’t think songs should be either.”

The writing process, she remembers, was unusually charged. 

“Eva Arnby was playing this beautiful upright piano, and as soon as I heard those chords I started writing. For the pre-chorus, I said in the session voice note, ‘I want it to be more James Brown.’ It’s funny, because I don’t hear that now, but that’s what inspired it at the time.”

The accompanying video, directed by acclaimed fashion photographer Kai Cem Narin, captures that instability in surreal imagery. Drawing on a real-life moment – lying awake in bed next to a partner, silently crying and texting her mum – it takes the viewer into an otherworldly dreamscape. 

For Chinchilla, the project was about community as much as creativity. “In a time when labels are reluctant to fund long-form music videos, this felt refreshing. Everyone came together on low fees, put the art first, and created something beautiful.”

Navigating social media and scrutiny

Every rising artist now faces the double-edged sword of social media, and Chinchilla is no exception. “I’m definitely in the boat of ‘I do it because I have to’,” she admits. “But at its core, I love that social media cuts out the middleman. It completely changed my life. You can reach people directly, and market yourself how you want.”

Though thankful for the digital age and the benefits it brings, she remains candid about the strain it brings. “It sucks having to think of ways to promote music in reference to an algorithm. If a song doesn’t perform well, you think, it’s a bad song, I knew it. It tricks you. And if it does well, you’re like, I knew it would. It really controls your judgment of yourself.”

Speaking more on the downsides to social media, Chinchilla admits the scrutiny of strangers can also sting. “If someone hits a nerve, compares my music to an artist I hate, or says something I secretly worried about, it gets to me. Especially if lots of people say the same thing. But if it’s just random hate, I can brush it off. People around me remind me it’s not true, and that keeps me grounded.”

Her perspective echoes what many students navigating creative careers online feel: social media offers opportunity and exposure, but it also amplifies insecurities. Chinchilla’s openness about both sides makes her story not just relatable, but instructive.

Learning to trust yourself

If there’s one lesson CHINCHILLA wants aspiring musicians – or students in any creative field – to take away, it’s the importance of intuition. “Say no when it feels wrong, and yes when it feels right,” she says firmly. “Don’t overthink it. No one knows anything. Anyone who tells you they do is probably an amateur.”

“Sometimes I get swayed by the algorithm, or by what might happen if I say no. But the truth is, the best person you can trust the judgment of is yourself. You’re the only person who knows how to be authentic, and that’s the only way your music is going to sell.”

For students under pressure to perform – academically, socially, and online – her words hit hard. Authenticity, she suggests, isn’t a luxury; it’s a survival strategy. “If you don’t want to do something, say no. Maybe it would change your life, but maybe it would be for the wrong reasons. Trusting yourself is the only way you’ll end up where you’re meant to be.”

Looking ahead

With a trilogy of singles charting heartbreak and healing, and a US tour with G Flip on the horizon, Chinchilla is stepping into the next phase of her career with momentum and clarity. Her shows, whether stadiums or 200-cap clubs, prove her ability to connect across scale.

But even as the world widens, she stays grounded in the power of connection. “Having people know those little details in my songs, the second-verse lines, the bridges – it’s the most affirming feeling,” she says. “That’s my favourite thing in the world.”

Her story so far is proof that success isn’t about fitting neatly into an algorithm or a genre. It’s about trusting your instincts, embracing vulnerability, and remembering that the most important audience you can please is yourself.

Chinchilla’s rise isn’t just about viral moments or sync deals. It’s about a young woman learning to trust herself – through heartbreak, through industry chaos, through the highs of stadiums and the lows of self-doubt. 

For students wondering how to break into a creative industry, her story is proof that there’s no single formula. Write endlessly. Follow your instincts. Learn to say no. And when the moment feels right, say yes – and step onto the stage, whatever that proverbial stage looks like to you.