Lewis Capaldi Just Announced a 32-Date World Tour and the World Is Already Ugly-Crying in Anticipation
In a packed Glasgow pub that smelled of chips and pure joy, Lewis Capaldi stood on a bar stool, pint in one hand, phone in the other, and shouted the sentence every broken heart on earth has been waiting to hear: “I’m coming back, ya beautiful bastards—32 shows, 2026, see you there!”
After three years of healing, therapy, and learning how to be human again, the 29-year-old who turned heartbreak into platinum is officially returning with his rawest, realest, funniest tour yet.
No more hiding. No more cancelling. Just Lewis—hoodie, swear jar, Tourette’s tics, panic attacks, and all—promising to “sing like I’m trying to get the pain out and laugh like I’m trying to put it back in.” Doctors said “maybe.” Lewis answered with a middle finger and a microphone.
The tour explodes out of the blocks on March 14 at Glasgow’s OVO Hydro—three sold-out hometown nights dubbed “The Big Fat Scottish Wedding.”
North America follows with 14 dates: Toronto, Boston, New York’s Madison Square Garden, Chicago, Nashville, and a tear-soaked finale at L.A.’s Crypto.com Arena. Every setlist mixes the old weepers—“Someone You Loved,” “Before You Go”—with brand-new songs written on “the worst days I never posted about,” including the already-leaked “I Miss Being Miserable With You,” which fans have tattooed before it’s even officially released.
Europe gets ten nights of pure chaos and catharsis starting May 10 at London’s O2 Arena.
Manchester, Dublin, Amsterdam, Paris’s Accor Arena—every city that held him when he couldn’t hold himself. Expect surprise covers of Oasis (obviously), Adele duets via hologram, and nightly “Swear Jar” moments where Lewis donates £10 for every F-bomb he drops. “If I hit a million quid, I’m buying every fan a pint and a hug,” he grinned.
Australia and New Zealand close the run with five massive shows in August, because “they sing the sad songs the loudest and the rugby songs the drunkest.”
Sydney’s Qudos Bank Arena, Melbourne’s Rod Laver, and a beachside acoustic night in Perth that already has 100,000 people trying to get 12,000 tickets. Lewis promises to learn the haka “badly, but with feeling.”
This isn’t a comeback tour; it’s a thank-you tour.
Production is stripped-back: one piano, one guitar, one very sweary Scotsman, and giant screens showing real fan messages submitted pre-show. VIP packages include “Therapy & Tatties”—45-minute group chats with Lewis and a licensed counselor over fish suppers. Every ticket plants a tree in Scotland and funds mental-health drop-in centers, because “if I can make one kid feel less alone, the whole circus is worth it.”
Tickets crashed every server on the planet in six minutes flat, with #LewisIsComingHome trending higher than any breakup tweet ever has.
Resale prices hit £8,000, but Lewis immediately announced 10,000 £25 tickets per show hidden in the system—“for the ones who can’t afford therapy or tickets, but deserve both.”
Lewis ended the announcement the only way he knows how:
“I spent years learning how to fall apart in public.
Now I get 32 nights to learn how to stay together—with all of you.”
The world’s messiest, bravest heart is hitting the road.
Bring tissues, bring laughter, bring your own heartbreak.
Lewis Capaldi is ready to carry it with you.
