Keanu Reeves, the eternal everyman who’s dodged bullets in John Wick, philosophized through time in Bill & Ted, and quietly revolutionized Hollywood with his humility, just dropped a bombshell that’s got the world buzzing louder than a red pill awakening.

“I’m not done yet!” the 61-year-old icon declared in a raw, unscripted video announcement that hit social media like a meteor this week, his voice steady but eyes misty as he stood onstage with his bandmates in Dogstar. The clip, filmed in a dimly lit rehearsal space with guitars slung low and amps humming, has already racked up 50 million views. Fans aren’t just hyped—they’re emotional wrecks, flooding comment sections with teary confessions about how this feels like Keanu’s most personal chapter yet.

Dogstar—the alt-rock trio featuring Reeves on bass, Bret Domrose on guitar and vocals, and Rob Mailhouse on drums—isn’t just reuniting. They’re unleashing a full-blown “Eclipse Tour” kicking off in spring 2026, a 40-date North American odyssey that promises new tracks, a stage design that redefines intimacy in arenas, and lyrics that peel back the layers of a life marked by triumph, tragedy, and quiet resilience. It’s a love letter to everything that’s shaped him: the neon haze of ’90s grunge, the ache of lost loved ones, the thrill of second chances, and the unbreakable bonds of chosen family.

Tickets? They’re evaporating faster than Neo’s illusions. Presales crashed Ticketmaster twice already, with scalpers flipping front-row seats for five figures on secondary markets. If you’re not locked in yet, brace yourself—this might be your last shot to see the man who plays the loner like no one else, finally letting us into his world.

Dogstar’s story is pure ’90s nostalgia with a 2020s glow-up. Formed in 1991 amid the flannel-and-flannel fury of Seattle’s scene, the band was Reeves’ escape hatch from the whirlwind of Speed and Point Break. Reeves, then a wide-eyed 27-year-old, handled bass duties with a ferocity that surprised even his bandmates—guys who’d jammed with him since high school drama club days. Domrose (who joined in ’94 after original guitarist Gregg Miller split) brought the gritty riffs, while Mailhouse, a Days of Our Lives soap star turned drummer, kept the pulse pounding like a heartbeat in overdrive.

They dropped Our Little Visionary in ’96—a raw, melodic debut that captured the era’s angst with hooks that stuck like gum on your Doc Martens. Follow-up Happy Ending in 2000 was even punchier, blending post-punk edge with pop smarts. But life, that relentless director, hit pause. Reeves dove headfirst into The Matrix, Domrose pursued solo ventures, and Mailhouse balanced acting gigs. By 2002, Dogstar went dormant, a casualty of schedules too jammed to align.

Fast-forward to the pandemic’s long shadow. Isolated in his Los Angeles home, Reeves picked up his bass again—not for fame, but for sanity. “Music’s been my anchor through the storms,” he later shared in a rare Rolling Stone sit-down. Zoom jams turned into marathon sessions, and by 2023, Dogstar was reborn. Their comeback album Somewhere Between the Power Lines and Palm Trees—23 years in the making—debuted at No. 1 on Billboard’s Alternative chart, a collection of sun-soaked anthems that traded youthful despair for hard-won hope. Tracks like “Everything Turns Around” became unofficial soundtracks for post-lockdown rebirths, with Reeves’ bass lines rumbling like thunder under Domrose’s soaring choruses.

The 2024 tour was a test run: sold-out dives from Napa’s BottleRock to Brooklyn’s Music Hall of Williamsburg, where fans chanted “Keanu! Keanu!” like he was headlining Coachella. Reeves, ever the gentleman, deflected with a shy grin, saying, “This isn’t about me—it’s about us making noise together.” But whispers of something bigger bubbled up: a full tour, fresh material, and a production that would honor the band’s DIY roots while pushing boundaries.

Enter the “Eclipse Tour,” announced November 18, 2025, in a live stream that felt more like a fireside chat than a presser. Reeves, clad in his signature all-black with a faded Dogstar tee, leaned into the camera: “We’ve waited long enough. Life’s too short not to howl at the moon.” The tour launches April 15, 2026, at Seattle’s Paramount Theatre—a nod to their Pacific Northwest origins—before snaking through 40 cities, wrapping June 28 at LA’s Hollywood Bowl. Stops include Madison Square Garden (May 12), Chicago’s United Center (May 20), and a homecoming blowout in Toronto (June 5), where Reeves’ Canadian roots will get a hero’s welcome.

What sets this apart? New tracks teased in the announcement: “Not Done Yet,” a fist-pumping rocker about defying the odds (inspired, insiders say, by Reeves’ motorcycle crashes and comebacks); “River’s Edge,” a haunting ballad mourning lost sister Kim (who battled leukemia for years before her 2023 passing) and stillborn child Ava (from his ’90s heartbreak with Alexandra Grant); and “Breach,” an explosive closer channeling the brotherhood that pulled him through grief. “These songs are scars turned into stories,” Domrose told Pitchfork. “Keanu pours his soul into every note—no filters.”

The stage design? A game-changer that’s got production nerds geeking out. Imagine a circular platform suspended like a solar eclipse, with LED “power lines” pulsing overhead and palm projections rippling underfoot—echoing the album’s title. Holographic ghosts of ’90s Dogstar flicker during encores, blending nostalgia with now. Reeves’ bass rig, custom-built with sustainable woods, glows under blacklight, turning solos into light shows. It’s intimate yet immersive, scaling from theaters to arenas without losing that garage-band grit. “We wanted it to feel like you’re in the room with us, not watching from afar,” Mailhouse explained in a behind-the-scenes clip.

Fans are calling it Keanu’s most emotional era because it is. This isn’t stunt casting—it’s therapy in three-minute bursts. Reeves, who’s donated millions anonymously to children’s hospitals and gifted Harley-Davidsons to his Matrix crew, has always worn his values on his sleeve: kindness as armor, loss as teacher. The tour’s a tribute to that—proceeds funding leukemia research and youth music programs, with each show featuring local openers from unsigned bands. “He’s not just playing bass; he’s healing out loud,” one attendee from the 2024 run posted on X, attaching a blurry pic of Reeves hugging a teary fan post-set.

The outpouring? Electric. Celeb endorsements rolled in fast: Alex Winter (Bill & Ted co-star) tweeted, “Bill & Ted would approve—excellent adventure incoming!” Sandra Bullock (Speed soulmate) called it “pure magic.” Even Elon Musk, a Reeves superfan, quipped, “Keanu’s the real cyberpunk hero.” On Reddit’s r/KeanuBeingAwesome, threads exploded: “This man lost everything and still chooses joy. I’m ugly-crying and buying tickets.” Emotional deep dives trended on TikTok, with users stitching tour clips to The Matrix monologues about choice and redemption.

But it’s the little moments that hit hardest. In the announcement video, Reeves pauses mid-sentence, voice catching: “This is for the ones we lost, the dreams we chased, and the noise we still need to make.” Domrose chimes in with a riff; Mailhouse taps a gentle beat. It’s 90 seconds of vulnerability from a guy who’s spent decades playing unbreakable heroes. “Keanu’s era of quiet legend just went supernova,” Variety gushed.

As tickets vanish—LA’s Bowl show sold out in 12 minutes, with dynamic pricing pushing premiums to $1,200—the question isn’t if you’ll go, but how you’ll survive the setlist without tissues. Dogstar’s not just touring; they’re testifying. In a world of algorithms and avatars, Keanu Reeves is reminding us: rock ‘n’ roll—and real talk—still rules.

For full dates, set times, and VIP packages (including post-show hangs with the band), head to dogstar.com/tour. Don’t sleep on this one. As Keanu might say: Be excellent to each other. And grab those seats before they’re gone.