Yungblud Pulls the Plug: Rock’s Wild Child Halts Tour for Health

Mia Reynolds, 11/17/2025Yungblud pauses his 2025 US tour for health reasons, revealing the pressures of fame and the toll it takes on artists. With a candid social media confession, he emphasizes the importance of self-care in a demanding industry, inviting fans to reflect on the balance between performance and personal well-being.

Predictably, the announcement didn’t arrive dressed in the crisp livery of a PR statement. Instead, it materialized on social media in that achingly familiar way—half apology, half open letter, nerves threaded right through it. Harrison laid the truth bare, no stunt required: “It is in my nature to run and run until I run myself to the ground without giving a f*** about anything apart from the music and you guys.” A confession loaded with bravado, but enough self-awareness to sting a little.

Oddly enough, there’s almost a cinematic intimacy in these public moments. Like leaning against a bedroom door, catching the muffled voice of someone laying their soul out, except here the world’s the audience—scrolling past between memes and trending drama. For those clinging to tickets for Philadelphia, Cleveland, Washington, or even as far as Mexico City, seeing “Canceled: Medical Reasons” stung. There’s something universal in shared disappointment, even when the rockstar is apologizing through a phone screen. And there’s honesty in a line like, “My heart is broken. I don’t want to do any lasting damage to myself, we are on a journey that I want to last forever.”

Step back, and the scene echoes an old refrain in rock folklore—the idea that immortality requires burnout, that the brightest stars always go out first. But that myth, however romanticized, doesn’t hold water in 2025, not after a year where even the most untouchable icons have struggled in the spotlight. Harrison was everywhere this year. “Idols” hit hard on release, he racked up three UK chart-toppers (with little respite between “Weird!” and the self-titled blitz of 2022), then came the Grammy nod for Best Rock Album, and a “Zombie” single nomination just for good measure. That haunting tribute to “Changes” at Black Sabbath’s farewell—especially after Ozzy Osbourne’s passing—was drenched in bittersweet significance.

Meanwhile, Yungblud spent the year living up to every caricature of rock excess, often as if to prove some point. Cigarettes shared with fans mid-gig; antics at the AMAs alongside Steven Tyler; constant motion, sweat, and bravado. But behind the curtain, the tests and the doctor’s verdict caught up. There’s a limit even for those wired like hummingbirds. Perhaps it was a wakeup call. Might’ve even been a lifeline.

Amidst the noise—online more than anywhere else—reaction landed with all the empathy one comes to expect from the digital crowd. Critics quipped, “He could easily be the biggest rockstar in the world if his music wasn’t borderline unlistenable.” Others: “I love everything he has going on except his dreadful music. He needs to fix this.” For every surge of adoration, a ripple of ambivalence. Yet isn’t that, really, what new icons face? The glare, the split opinions, the slippery relationship fans can have with their own expectations.

Still, gratitude cut through Harrison’s statement. He wrote—perhaps to anyone who needed to hear it—“This year has been truly unbelievable and I feel so lucky and honoured from everything that has happened.” There’s a pulse of anxiety, too, almost turning itself into hope. Promises that shows would return, tickets would be refunded, surprises would find their way to the inboxes of loyal fans. It all read like someone looking for a way to hit pause, not stop.

For now, it’s the waiting that defines the storyline. January in Sydney marks the next act. Then, a home-soil swing through the UK by April that’ll no doubt test nerves and stamina alike. The American hustle? On ice. Perhaps this is a moment that’ll ripple outward in the industry, too. After all, no one ever said that caution and rock ‘n’ roll couldn’t coexist, only that it rarely made for good headlines.

Maybe the bravest act right now is the one that happens off stage—choosing to rest before collapse, choosing not to turn pain into performance. And as Harrison steps back, just for a bit, he extends a silent invitation: for fans and skeptics to consider the toll behind the spectacle, and for the scene itself to ponder whether “forever” might mean taking the long way, not the hardest.

2025 will no doubt bring another round of record releases, last-minute cancellations, and opinionated tweets, but, for a moment, a different sort of highlight emerges. Not stage-diving or smashed guitars, but a person re-learning how to last in a world that asks so much of its brightest voices. If that’s not a little rock ‘n’ roll—come to think of it, maybe it never really was—what is?

When the word got out that Yungblud—Dominic Harrison, who’ll turn 29 before next festival season—was halting his 2025 US tour, it felt less like a routine hiccup and more like the universe yanking the mic stand mid-show. Not another logistical shuffle, but a sharp intermission dictated by something more stubborn than a poorly routed bus or a double-booked arena: an uncompromising doctor and a set of test results that just wouldn’t take “not now” as an answer.Predictably, the announcement didn’t arrive dressed in the crisp livery of a PR statement. Instead, it materialized on social media in that achingly familiar way—half apology, half open letter, nerves threaded right through it. Harrison laid the truth bare, no stunt required: “It is in my nature to run and run until I run myself to the ground without giving a f*** about anything apart from the music and you guys.” A confession loaded with bravado, but enough self-awareness to sting a little.Oddly enough, there’s almost a cinematic intimacy in these public moments. Like leaning against a bedroom door, catching the muffled voice of someone laying their soul out, except here the world’s the audience—scrolling past between memes and trending drama. For those clinging to tickets for Philadelphia, Cleveland, Washington, or even as far as Mexico City, seeing “Canceled: Medical Reasons” stung. There’s something universal in shared disappointment, even when the rockstar is apologizing through a phone screen. And there’s honesty in a line like, “My heart is broken. I don’t want to do any lasting damage to myself, we are on a journey that I want to last forever.”Step back, and the scene echoes an old refrain in rock folklore—the idea that immortality requires burnout, that the brightest stars always go out first. But that myth, however romanticized, doesn’t hold water in 2025, not after a year where even the most untouchable icons have struggled in the spotlight. Harrison was everywhere this year. “Idols” hit hard on release, he racked up three UK chart-toppers (with little respite between “Weird!” and the self-titled blitz of 2022), then came the Grammy nod for Best Rock Album, and a “Zombie” single nomination just for good measure. That haunting tribute to “Changes” at Black Sabbath’s farewell—especially after Ozzy Osbourne’s passing—was drenched in bittersweet significance.Meanwhile, Yungblud spent the year living up to every caricature of rock excess, often as if to prove some point. Cigarettes shared with fans mid-gig; antics at the AMAs alongside Steven Tyler; constant motion, sweat, and bravado. But behind the curtain, the tests and the doctor’s verdict caught up. There’s a limit even for those wired like hummingbirds. Perhaps it was a wakeup call. Might’ve even been a lifeline.Amidst the noise—online more than anywhere else—reaction landed with all the empathy one comes to expect from the digital crowd. Critics quipped, “He could easily be the biggest rockstar in the world if his music wasn’t borderline unlistenable.” Others: “I love everything he has going on except his dreadful music. He needs to fix this.” For every surge of adoration, a ripple of ambivalence. Yet isn’t that, really, what new icons face? The glare, the split opinions, the slippery relationship fans can have with their own expectations.Still, gratitude cut through Harrison’s statement. He wrote—perhaps to anyone who needed to hear it—“This year has been truly unbelievable and I feel so lucky and honoured from everything that has happened.” There’s a pulse of anxiety, too, almost turning itself into hope. Promises that shows would return, tickets would be refunded, surprises would find their way to the inboxes of loyal fans. It all read like someone looking for a way to hit pause, not stop.For now, it’s the waiting that defines the storyline. January in Sydney marks the next act. Then, a home-soil swing through the UK by April that’ll no doubt test nerves and stamina alike. The American hustle? On ice. Perhaps this is a moment that’ll ripple outward in the industry, too. After all, no one ever said that caution and rock ‘n’ roll couldn’t coexist, only that it rarely made for good headlines.Maybe the bravest act right now is the one that happens off stage—choosing to rest before collapse, choosing not to turn pain into performance. And as Harrison steps back, just for a bit, he extends a silent invitation: for fans and skeptics to consider the toll behind the spectacle, and for the scene itself to ponder whether “forever” might mean taking the long way, not the hardest.2025 will no doubt bring another round of record releases, last-minute cancellations, and opinionated tweets, but, for a moment, a different sort of highlight emerges. Not stage-diving or smashed guitars, but a person re-learning how to last in a world that asks so much of its brightest voices. If that’s not a little rock ‘n’ roll—come to think of it, maybe it never really was—what is?