As he prepares to take the stage at beloved Dallas listening room the Kessler, country artist Joshua Ray Walker is feeling terrible. Sipping a Topo Chico in the green room of his hometown’s venue, he’s sweaty and a little shaky—the side effects of a chemotherapy treatment completed just five days earlier. But, dressed in all black save for a pair of purple Lisa Frank Crocs, the 33-year-old Walker is getting ready to get onstage, nausea be damned. 

This Monday night show in June is Walker’s fifth consecutive monthly performance at the Kessler, all of which have sold out within days. Many audience members—childhood friends of Walker’s; fans who’ve been watching him play since he was performing for tiny crowds in Deep Ellum clubs—come back every single month. “These Kessler shows are really my only income. They’re timed out to where pretty much exactly when my bank account is going to be empty—I play another show, and it’s another month or five weeks worth of money,” he tells me. “If the Kessler hadn’t let me do this, or if I wasn’t physically able to do this, I have no idea how I’d be surviving financially right now.” 

A lot has changed since September 2023, when Walker’s career was the best it had ever been. In the months prior, he’d released a critically acclaimed cover album of songs originally recorded by female artists, called What Is It Even?, which showcased his impressive range of vocal influences (the Cranberries, Whitney Houston) and distinctive timbre. As he geared up to open for the Killers in Las Vegas, he also learned that he’d be performing on Jimmy Kimmel Live!, his first national television spot. But after the first of two scheduled nights playing with the Killers, Walker got sick. Really sick. So sick that he slept through sound check the next day. Reluctant to cancel such an important gig, he powered through the show and only went to the hospital hours later, where he learned that he’d ruptured his appendix. He spent five days recovering in a Reno hospital. 

As per routine procedure, Walker underwent a CAT scan. The doctors detected a mass in his colon and told him to schedule a colonoscopy when he got home to Dallas. “It was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving when I got the news that I had cancer, and that was right on the way to go do Kimmel,” Walker says. Sharing the news with only his family and his bandmates, he powered through to perform a barn-burning, vocally stunning rendition of Lizzo’s “Cuz I Love You.” 

Walker’s once hectic touring schedule screeched to a halt after the Kimmel performance—and that was a blessing in disguise, he says. He’d been feeling run-down for at least a year, struggling with digestive symptoms and sudden-onset anemia, and the appendicitis meant that the cancer was detected early. “If I hadn’t had that appendicitis, I might have kept pushing through longer,” he says. “I have stage three-B colon cancer, which means that it is reversible. But if I had waited weeks or months, it would’ve maybe turned out to be something I couldn’t survive.” 

The musician had abdominal surgery in January 2024 to remove the cancerous mass, then began six months of chemotherapy, with treatments every two weeks. “I’m taking all the doctors’ advice when it comes to treatment. I’m not cutting any corners,” he says. “I feel like I get one shot to do it right, and we’ve been pretty aggressive because I don’t want to go through chemo again.” 

He also used those weeks recovering at his East Dallas home as an opportunity to start taking better care of his mental and physical health. He learned that he has a genetic mutation that makes him more likely to develop colon cancer if he eats processed foods, so he cut those out as much as possible. He stopped drinking and started meditating, and he tries to spend as much time outdoors as he can. He’s also planning to start therapy soon, something he’s wanted to do for a long time but only recently became possible because he didn’t have health insurance for many years. “Physically, I just had to slow down, and that was the hardest part. But it gave me a lot of time to focus on my mental health and my well-being,” he says. “I honestly think I’m doing better in that respect than I have in years.” 

Inevitably, though, the boredom set in. To keep himself busy, Walker started writing. He says he’s written close to enough songs for three new full-length albums in the months since he’s been off the road. In April, he released a post-rock song synced up to the totality of the solar eclipse alongside Dallas producer John Pedigo. “It’s been nice to create stuff that I don’t necessarily have to send off for approval,” he says. “It feels good to play guitar, sing, to do the things I know I’m good at.” 

Even though he’s released three critically acclaimed albums since his 2019 debut, Walker’s financial position is, like those of most musicians, precarious. Revenue from touring, both as a solo artist and as an opener for acts like the Killers and Marcus King, made up the bulk of his income, and once he came off the road, his bank account dwindled. He sold his tour van to lease a reliable vehicle that he could use to get back and forth to treatment, and he started looking for a way to stay afloat while ensuring he was able to recover physically from his biweekly chemo treatments. Always a planner—Walker is the type of guy who makes spreadsheets for fun—he approached the Kessler with a mutually beneficial proposition: a series of monthly shows, held on Monday nights, when the venue is typically empty, with a financial split that helps out everyone involved. 

After he was diagnosed, Walker was inundated with support from his fans and the Dallas music community, all of whom wanted to figure out a way to help. “ ‘I don’t need you to drop off food; I don’t need you to ride with me to chemo. Just let me take care of that. All I need you to do is come to these shows, and listen for ninety minutes,’ ” Walker says. “And by God, they have. I really love Dallas, and they typically do love me back.” 

As he looks forward to completing treatment later this summer, Walker’s outlook is decidedly optimistic. His recovery prognosis is positive, and he’s itching to get back out on the road, with some exciting shows in the works for late 2024, though he’s not ready to divulge details on those just yet. He’s working on a top-secret film project too, and, of course, there are those three records he’s been writing throughout the recovery process. 

Taking the stage at the Kessler, Walker enters the room like a professional wrestler, walking out to rapper BigXthaPlug’s rowdy anthem “Texas” in remarkably high spirits, considering how he feels physically. His previous shows at the venue were scheduled at least ten days after chemo sessions, but the timing in June means he’s just had five to recover. He is sweaty, shaky, and battling neuropathy in his hands and feet, which he describes as having his extremities “covered in Icy Hot.” If he hadn’t brought it up, though, it’s unlikely the crowd would’ve noticed. As Walker sits with his guitar on the stage, his vocals are as sharp and powerful as ever, as is his uncanny ability to evoke deep, raw emotion with the wail of his rich tenor. 

Ripping through his nineteen-song set, Walker lets the crowd know just what these shows have meant to him as he’s undergone treatment. “If y’all didn’t show up and support me every month, I wouldn’t be able to keep my lights on,” he says to the room as he downs an anti-nausea pill in between songs. “I’ll roll out an IV stand here if I have to.” From the crowd, a voice calls out: “We’ll still be here.”