The Show Must Go On – Inhaler deliver a night to remember despite health struggles

When have you “made it” as an artist? How do you know? Is it selling out a headline show? Or simply playing a headline show? Is it a headline tour? An international tour? Are venues important? Venues of a certain prestige or capacity? Is selling out a 2500-seat theatre enough to say you’ve arrived? What about selling out a 2500-seat theatre for a second time, over two years later, and on two successive nights? Or is it in chart positions? Does a top 10 album certify you into the big league? What’s a number 1 album worth? Do awards count for anything – not that creative expression is a competition – or is there some other way to gauge it? What does success ultimately look like for a band in 2025?

It feels like the metrics of success have been thrown out the window in recent years, not only with the rise of independent artists through self-driven and organic channels, but also in the way artists – and, more importantly, fans – engage with traditional industry behaviours. Having “creative control” always seemed like the biggest power struggle but, increasingly, it feels like professional autonomy is the greatest goal for artists now; that is, the ability to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ based on one’s own best interests or intuition. It’s self-representation and doing what you feel is right.

These last few years in particular have highlighted the sustainability value in respecting the personal and professional boundaries of artists as more and more high-profile figures speak out about their experiences of abuse and exploitation. Yet one thing that still sits uncomfortably between artists and their fans, even since 2020, is the cancellation of shows for health reasons. Most people are understanding – we’re all human – but there remains a stigma about prioritising one person’s wellbeing over an entire audience’s pleasure, and that’s without mentioning the economic and logistical implications. This struggle and perception of artists’ autonomy, coupled with unprecedented accessibility online, leaves people in a difficult position if they become unwell. So to the point of ‘success’ in 2025 – is being able to cancel a show because of sickness the peak, or is it perhaps being forgiven for doing so?

Inhaler’s debut album topped the UK charts upon its release in 2021. Their sophomore album peaked at number 2. Their third album, Open Wide, was denied the top spot earlier this month by coinciding with the physical issue of a Taylor Swift live recording from 2023. That’s a tough break, entering a chart battle with pop music’s messiah. Nevertheless, Inhaler have had a good run of record sales. Touring has also proven to be one of their great strengths and they even capped off the 2023 release cycle for Cuts & Bruises with a sold-out hometown show at Dublin’s 13,000-capacity 3Arena. By traditional measures they conquered music some time ago. Throughout that final 2023 show frontman Elijah Hewson was losing his voice, perhaps with the fatigue of touring, or that coinciding with the winter flu season, but he soldiered on through a career-defining night for the band. Having proven themselves at such a level, surely the band are allowed a little grace now if they fall under the weather? This raises the question: What’s worse for your fans – giving maybe an 80% performance or postponing shows altogether until you can come back at 100%? Well on Tuesday night in Glasgow Inhaler decided to make a statement: They went ahead with the 80% performance and it was 100% everything fans could have hoped for.

Liverpool four-piece Permanent (Joy) were forced to take to the stage before even half the queue outside had been admitted. Unperturbed and at ease with their responsibility, the band turned on a casual charm, delivering a brief yet unhurried set of songs that sounded as if they were forged in that turn-of-the-millennium melting pot where American post-grunge minced with British alternative rock. It was a clean, dark and moody introduction to the evening.

Meanwhile Dublin outfit Gurriers sparked a different energy throughout their support slot. Spitting lyrics with endearing punk conviction, theirs is a sound akin to organised chaos – polished – with a harsh edge and overall urgency that commands attention. Both openers deserved better lighting than they received but that didn’t deny either of a genuine audience connection, the importance of which can never be undervalued.

Finally, precipitated by piercing screams as the lights went down, Inhaler appeared like lightning through a storm front, forcing everyone in the balcony to their feet. My Honest Face spliced the air, warm and heavy with anticipation. Hewson confessed to illness immediately but insisted that they hadn’t wanted to cancel; Glasgow has consistently delivered some of the band’s favourite shows over the years and they were still riding high from Monday night’s reception. His declaration held a weighty expectation that the crowd would carry them through, and so it was implicitly agreed and the audience obliged.

New songs were generously received like old favourites, and the old favourites were scream-sung so loud the whole room shifted frequency. A Question Of You had an elevated grit about it while the added crunchiness on Little Things and X-Ray set them in a different genre to their recorded versions. My King Will Be Kind marked the apogee of crowd participation at the halfway point of the set, where band and audience fully synergised. From there on the whole concert experience felt like a formidable and inevitable triumph.

There was minimal banter in between songs, owing largely to the preservation of energy and Hewson’s voice, but no-one seemed to mind or even notice, as the frontman used his few spoken interludes to repeatedly praise the audience for their support. The band’s typically concise songwriting gives way on Dublin in Ecstasy to an extended instrumental section. Hewson took this opportunity to leave the stage, not in search of medical aid or respite but to get closer to fans, extending the reach of his microphone so as to converse with a few lucky punters on the barrier. The crowd reaction was immediate, desperate and unequivocal, as fans near the front pressed into each other, arms stretching out and eyes straining for attention, while those further back watched on with eyes and mouths agape in awe and envy. Anyone in close enough proximity captured a core memory. This is really how artists earn their stripes and Hewson seems innately aware of it.

To question his judgement in this moment, given the health implications for himself and fans, is to undermine the point of live music entirely. Moments of deep, spontaneous and inspired connection cannot be faked or forced, they cannot be scripted or replicated, and for these reasons they are the most treasured, most prized, most valuable of experiences.  Chart positions are arbitrary; ticket sales mean nothing to fans; awards alone don’t provide longevity (although occasionally prize money helps). Live shows are the real proving ground for talent: Are the songs well received? Do audiences care enough to listen? Are people invested to show up early, to stay to the end? Is everyone having a great time? When these questions are answered affirmatively, that’s when a band has succeeded.

As to the matter of cancelling shows, to artists seeking compassion and understanding, there is no universal answer. The best rewards in life are rarely without risk. Inhaler chanced their luck in Glasgow and it paid off, giving fans an unforgettable night. Two nights later, in Manchester, they saw the other side of the coin. Either way, they’ve surely made it, by any definition.