Electric Reverie: Rufus du Sol Lights Up Paris on Inhale / Exhale Tour

On Tuesday night, under the soft twilight of a Parisian summer, the cavernous halls of Zénith Paris – La Villette pulsed with something unmistakable: anticipation. The Australian electronic trio Rufus du Sol had returned to the City of Light, and Paris was more than ready to breathe them in.

Part of their sweeping Inhale / Exhale World Tour, the sold-out show was a masterclass in emotional electronic storytelling. The group, Tyrone Lindqvist, Jon George, and James Hunt, took the stage amidst a backdrop of cinematic visuals, fog-drenched lights, and a deafening roar from fans who had waited years for their return.

From the first beat, the trio had the crowd in their grip. Opening with a hypnotic build from their new Inhale / Exhale album, they segued seamlessly into fan favorites like Underwater, Next to Me, and Alive. Each track felt like a ritual: glittering synths, soaring vocals, and drumlines that made the floor hum beneath your feet. There was no dip, no filler, just wave after wave of sonic elevation.

“This crowd…” Tyrone said mid-set, gazing out into a sea of swaying bodies and cell phone lights. “It’s been way too long, Paris. You always bring this insane energy. Merci.”

The emotional climax came with Innerbloom, their iconic, nearly seven-minute meditation on longing and euphoria. As the final chords echoed, it felt like a collective exhale. But Paris wasn’t done.

The chants began slowly, then surged, calling for their return to the stag. And after a few moments, Rufus du Sol obliged.

Emerging for a three-song encore, they reignited the night with Break My Love, followed by No Place, a track that turned the crowd into one unified, dancing silhouette. But it was Music is Better that delivered the final high. A newer addition to their catalog, it felt like a parting gift, a promise that the music and the connection would linger far beyond the final note.

The production was tight but immersive: LED panels spilled kaleidoscopic visuals across the venue, smoke curled dramatically with every drop, and light beams stitched rhythm into the air. But no amount of spectacle outshone the music’s emotional core.

The trio’s presence was magnetic but never overbearing; they let the music speak, trusting the crowd to feel every pulse. And feel it they did.

As the house lights rose and the crowd filtered out into the warm Paris night, many still humming the refrains, it was clear Rufus du Sol had delivered something more than a concert. It was a communion. A breath held and released. A reminder, as their final song insists, that music is better, especially when shared.