Yungblud Took the Biggest Risk of His Career With ‘Idols’ — It Led Him All the Way to the Grammys

Yungblud has always been unapologetically himself, but over the last year, the 28-year-old musician has fully formed into the British rockstar he longed to be.

It’s a Tuesday morning in November and Yungblud, born Dominic Harrison, is early to this Zoom conversation, strumming on a guitar as he waits. It’s a rare moment of rest for a performer who doesn’t, by his own admission, know how not to give everything 100 percent.

Yungblud’s spent much of this last year touring, and he’ll spend much of 2026 doing the same. He released a full-length album, Idolsin June and recently teamed up with Aerosmith for a joint EP, One More Timethat was released in November. In between tours and album releases, Yungblud put on his second year of Bludfest, a UK music festival aimed at being accessible and inclusive for all fans.

The grueling schedule is impressive but presumably takes a toll on any performer. Days before this conversation, Yungblud announced to his fans on social media that he was canceling a handful of shows that remained in 2025 at the suggestion of his doctor. The rocker assures that overall he’s doing OK.

Idols has been a career-defining moment for the Doncaster, UK, native — one of several throughout 2025. The album brought him two Grammy nominations in the best rock album and best rock song categories. His third Grammy nomination came from a moment that very well might’ve changed the course of his career: his live performance of Black Sabbath’s “Changes” at the Back to the Beginning benefit concert, honoring the late Ozzy Osbourne and serving as his last show.

“That was probably the moment — I think it was bubbling — but I think the world started paying attention after that,” Yungblud tells The Hollywood Reporter. The live performance, recorded for the upcoming concert film, Back To The Beginning: Ozzy’s Final Bowearned Yungblud and his fellow collaborators a nomination for best rock performance. It’s a special nomination for many reasons; first, due to the fact that a live recording was nominated, and second, due to Yungblud’s own personal relationship with his late idol, with whom he’d grown close with in recent years.

Below, the British rocker speaks with THR about finally making the album he wanted to make with Idolswrapping his head around scoring three Grammy nominations and how he’s feeling after his health-related show cancellations.

How’s everything going right now? How are you feeling?

I’m good. I mean, I’m just kind of sat here comprehending the fucking year. At the beginning of this year, I was filming a [music] video in the Bulgarian snow for “Hello Heaven, [Hello],” and now I’m sat here. It’s been the craziest year of my life, so I think I’m just trying to catch it all. It’s been wild to end the year with what looks like two No. 1 albums in the UK My first number one in America, three Grammy nominations and 400,000 tickets sold has just been like, whoa. I’m pretty shocked.

What’s the emotion going through your head when you find out you’re nominated for a Grammy? What does it mean to get this recognition?

What’s cool about the Grammys is [it’s] from your peers. I think in the past, the internet or music critics have had a lot to say about me. But when you get, I don’t know, recognized or even noticed by your peers — the people who write music, produce music, play music — that’s a cool thing. Any musician starts as a fan first, don’t we? When you’re a fan of other people’s work, it’s cool. This year, a lot of my heroes have kind of hit me up [told me they] really loved what [I] did This album feels so beautiful [to have it be] to be recognized in that way because I really took a risk on it.

In what way?

At the end of my last record, I was really unhappy because I felt like I didn’t complete what I set out to do. As a result of that, I really went away and wanted to make a piece of music and a body of work that would be such an adventure and would be so off the wall and so against the rules of modern music. I just wanted to take a risk, even if it was the end of my career. It’s so funny, isn’t it? When music is a roulette table, when it’s red or black, and you don’t know and you’re nervous and you’re scared, I really think you’ve done something great. I think that’s how rock music is supposed to be made. It’s been amazing to arrive at this destination at the end of the biggest risk of my life. I can’t believe it. I had an idea that I thought would be great, and to see people respond to it is really cool.

You’ve spoken in the past about how you felt you had to infuse a lot of other influences in the music you were making, not just the straightforward rock that Idols is. Something has obviously shifted for you in terms of mainstream perception lately. Does it feel almost like a vindication knowing that this is the music you’ve been wanting to make, and it’s working out?

I think that’s always the case isn’t it? You watch any documentary of any great musician that you love and they go, “I finally did what I wanted, and it all worked.” It’s so crazy. I don’t know why. As artists, we go and do all this shit and experiment and listen to other people because every single great artist in every documentary tells us that they did that. Then they flipped the switch, and it all worked. You’ve got to be lost to figure out who you are. You’ve got to be running away from something to realize that you’re running towards something too. I’m truly myself right now, so people can formulate a decision whether they like me or not. Less people are on the fence.

Some kind of mainstream recognition has come across me. I think with it all, the mainstream is a crazy place because it’s not safe. When you’re in your own cult, it’s safe and it’s all positive. The way you handle the mainstream is if you are yourself or not. If you’re yourself, you can get out of bed in the morning if people don’t like you. If you’re not, then you’re hiding. If people don’t like you for being something you are not. It is the worst feeling in the world.

I’ve heard you say in interviews that you don’t get to pick how people perceive you, and that’s something I ask almost every artist I speak with. You likely have the version of yourself you want people to see. Do you feel that’s what this is for you? Do you feel you’re at that place?

I really think I almost learned enough in the eight years I’ve been doing this to approach this album and really make people see who I am without a translucent… It’s a pure, neat whiskey version of who I am. This album, it’s been amazing and the music I’m about to make is going to be a continuation of what I just made. I think people have been deterring me from doing rock music forever because it hasn’t been around for years. It’s not been around for 15 years minimum. I’ve got to make what my fucking soul wants to make, even if it is the end of my professional career, because I can’t handle the fact that I am… It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t go the full way. You’re running 80 meters on a 100-meter sprint. The last 20 meters is diluted or deterred or caged by another person’s opinion. I’m like, why the fuck? Why? You want to run the whole way. There’s nothing more liberating. Now I’ve ruined everything, and I think I finally found some freedom.

I’m sure it helps in terms of authenticity and creativity.

It doesn’t hurt as much. It hurts more to make it, but it doesn’t hurt as much when people digest it or judge it because it’s fucking art, man. If you make a record from your head and people patch you out, it hurts. If you make a fucking record from your soul and your heart and people hate it, you can’t really do much about it.

You got what you needed out of it.

Yeah, man, it’s like you fucking explode. Remember that film, Eight Milewhen they do that rap battle? He goes in his verse, “Yeah, I am from a fucking trailer and you did fuck my mom.” Then the guy has nothing to burn him on. He’s just like, this is who I am. I think that’s the greatest art. When you can kind of have the courage to do that, then nothing can burn because you’ve already laid it all on the table. There’s no skeletons in your closet.

To go back to the Grammys for a second, how are you feeling about the fact that “Changes” got a nomination? I assume that’s a pretty special feeling for you at this moment in time.

That was probably the moment — I think it was bubbling — but I think the world started paying attention after that. I watched that back, and I don’t know what the fuck came over me there. It’s so amazing that it got nominated for rock performance, as actually the only live performance in the category. I think it’s cool that something has gotten critically acclaimed for me, just telling the guy who got me into music and started everything for me that I love him. I was saying thank you. Honestly, when I left the stage, I did not expect it to ignite that much. I knew it was magic, and I knew that we came together — it’s such a crazy moment. I felt like I was in a movie. I feel like I walked out to 50,000 people, half of ’em didn’t know who I was. Half of ’em were probably wondering why the fuck I was there, or some of them probably didn’t like me. That concert brought six generations of rock fans together, and I think it was the first time people had something in common with me. Like, oh, fuck, man, [he] just likes Sabbath. He just likes Ozzy, like me. I just tried to give it everything. It was the first moment that I’ve ever… I’m fucking riddled with ADHD, so when you’re standing on stage with 20,000 people, you’re like, oh look, there’s a sign there and oh, there’s a girl on her shoulders’ there. You’re seeing a million things in lights. It’s like an ADHD person’s fucking nightmare. I really centered [myself]. It was the first time I’ve ever sung a piece of music to one person.

Really? In front of such a large audience too.

Fifth thousand people. I can’t remember it. I went into this, I don’t know, this weird, transformative state. I was like, I’m just going to really reach down to the depths of an incredible song and the depths of my very being and try to make something magical out of it. To be Grammy-nominated for a live performance is probably every performer’s dream, every singer’s dream. I think it’s not a performance on record when I could do 20 takes of it, when I got 20 goes of it, when I got to do drop-ins and when I got to do overdubs. It was a moment in time that happened, and it could never have been the same again. It was just a moment in time that was and never will be again. I think that’s beautiful about it.

You’ve been very open about your own mental health and your struggle with finding your own identity, which can be a bit of a taboo thing in rock. Why was it so important to you?

It’s just what I write about. Since the beginning of my career — I’m very bubbly and light, but I’m extremely dark inside my head. That is what captured a generation’s imagination. When I came out, I think I came up on a wave with great artists like Billie Eilish and Mac Miller and Lil Peep, and that’s what I think caught a generation’s heartbeat. It’s because the internet came along. The murmurs of school and the pressures of everything where you can’t truly say how you feel, but then someone does it on the internet and another person does it on the internet and then it starts to become a normal thing. I think inevitably art is written about the world that we’re living in.

I just feel like it was needed. I’d watched people I loved die. I’d watched Chris Cornell; I’d watched Chester [Bennington]; I’d watched Kurt Cobain and had watched Amy Winehouse, and how sad it is that a time wouldn’t allow them to have an outlet to potentially talk about what was going on in their head. It’s about 2018, 2019 when it started to be normal to be like, yo, I don’t think I’m OK. Or be normal to be like, I need to take a break from touring for a second. I think it’s so sad that those artists had to face that and be up against the mood of the world. I think that changed. I sing about my head, I sing about how I feel. It’s the one thing I know that’s real. In the same way that I’d sing about sex, or I sing about love or I’d sing about anything. In the same way that we sing about something that’s tangibly so emotionally overwhelming, anxiety, depression and a feeling of being overwhelmed and exhaustion is also that kind of thing.

You’re very busy with touring, and unfortunately, you had to cancel some shows at the end of the year. How are you feeling? How do you take care of yourself in that way?

I think the fundamentally cool thing about me and my fanbase is that I am completely honest with them. I basically just went and had some tests done, and I’m showing early signs of exhaustion in my voice. There’s no crazy fucking damage to it, but it’s had a really hard year. This album is hard to sing. My instinct is to go and go and go and run and run. My doctor, I’ve known him for a long time, since I’ve been very young, he’s said it’s finally at a place where I need to start taking this seriously. [I’m] not just a 17-year-old young punk anymore who can do a shot of whiskey and say fuck it. I want to be the best for my community. I have a big tour in year next year, so I just made the decision that we were obviously going to play support to [Limp] Bizkit and [at] festivals. We had three shows in America. My doctor just [didn’t] want [me] on planes and playing shows over two hours right now. Hey [said] if [I] want to write songs or want to kind of decompress and hit the studio? [He] said[he’dhavenoissuewiththatI’mzeroor100That’sjustwhoIamItwasamazinghowniceeveryonewasEveryone’ssosupportiveandIthinkthat’swhat’ssobeautifulaboutmycommunity[he’dhavenoissuewiththatI’mzeroor100That’sjustwhoIamItwasamazinghoweveryonewasniceEveryone’ssosupportiveandIthinkthat’swhat’ssobeautifulaboutmycommunity