Teddy Swims "I Tried Everything But Therapy" Tour
- shutterhubmediaca
- Jul 31
- 3 min read
Featuring:
Photos by: Samantha Madnick
Words by: Rudy Flores
With the cool air drifting in after a very humid (and honestly, kind of miserable) Thursday, the energy around Gallagher Square started shifting the moment the sun began to dip. The newly renovated venue—now boasting tiered seating and a slick balcony that’s basically the VIP spot for people who don’t like getting bumped into every five seconds—looked absolutely stunning. You could tell the crowd felt the same. People of all ages were slowly filing in, snapping pics under the soft pastel sky, clutching merch bags and that exclusive embroidered Teddy Swims tour patch everyone immediately pinned to their jackets like a badge of honor.
The first to hit the stage was Irish singer-songwriter Cian Ducrot, who had himself a few “firsts” that night—his first time in San Diego and his first night opening on this tour. It was just him, his guitar, a foot drum, and a whole lot of honesty. Cian didn’t need a band or fancy lights to win the crowd over—his presence was enough. He kicked things off with “No Way To Live,” a brutally honest track that called out the nonsense we blame for our own misery. He told us not to blame the barista’s purple hair or our neighbor’s painted nails for our “shit lives” (his words)—and honestly? Preach. Between his raw vocals and cheeky between-song banter, it didn’t take long for the crowd to warm up to him. He kept things intimate and honest, and spiced up with a few cheeky quips, and by the end of his set, people were swaying, couples were holding hands, and strangers were silently bonding over lyrics that clearly hit home. Before leaving the stage, Cian announced that his brand new album "Little Dreaming" would be dropping that night at midnight. Cue the cheers. It was the kind of opening set that left you scrambling to look him up on Spotify before Teddy even came out.
Then it was time.
As the lights dimmed and the crowd collectively tightened up toward the barricade, Teddy Swims took the stage like a damn force of nature. Wearing his heart on his sleeve along with a custom San Diego Padres jersey with "SWIMS" sewn nicely over the number 69 (wink wink nudge nudge), he launched into the first song of his tour “Not Your Man,” and the place erupted. Somehow his voice was even more powerful than the recordings—and that’s saying something. It’s soulful, gritty, tender, and explosive all at once. Every lyric felt personal, and he sang them like they still stung. Whether you were there to heal, cry, yell, or all three, Teddy gave you space to feel it unapologetically.
Throughout the set, Teddy bounced between heartbreak anthems and feel-goods with ease. Songs like “Lose Control,” “Devil in a Dress,” and “All That Really Matters” had everyone swaying or screaming along, depending on the lyric. He interacted with the crowd like we were all old friends—laughing, sharing stories between songs, shouting out fans holding up signs, and even getting emotional a few times. One of the wildest, most human moments of the night was when Teddy, mid-song, was signing fans’ merch—shirts, hats, even someone's arm—without missing a single note. It was like watching someone play six instruments at once. Every signature flowed with the music, his voice never wavered, and somehow, it all felt like a natural extension of the performance rather than a break from it. Another unforgettable moment came in the middle of the set when, again, mid-performance, Teddy pointed toward the crowd, smiled, and said, “Wait, did y’all just get engaged!?” And sure enough—someone had popped the question during the show. The crowd went wild, and Teddy didn’t miss a beat. He sent love to the couple, and in another seamless transition, signed a hat for them and kept the song going.
It was the kind of performance where you could tell he needed it just as much as we did. That shared vulnerability created something really special. Later in the show, he paused, looked out at the skyline, and said, “Y’all don’t know how much this means to me,” and it wasn’t just a throwaway line—it landed. Hard.
By the end of the night, the crowd was buzzing, sweaty, and emotionally wrung out—in the best way possible. The night's set closed with “The Door,” and you could actually feel people holding onto that last moment before the music stopped. Phones in the air, arms around friends, tears down cheeks. It wasn’t just a concert; it was therapy with a beat. And even if we hadn’t tried everything, that night, Teddy made us feel like we didn’t need to. We just needed the music. And maybe a cold drink after.
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