Kelly Tapia
Matt Maltese is a music industry anomaly. His 2017 breakout single, “As the World Caves In,” imagines then-U.K. Prime Minister Theresa May and then-U.S. President Donald Trump spending one last night together before triggering nuclear war. Beneath its absurd premise, the song unfolds into a heartbreaking love ballad with a mix of satire and sincerity that defines Maltese’s appeal. Despite the song’s viral success, Maltese has remained relatively underground, beloved by a devoted niche rather than the mainstream.
Since then, he’s quietly built a remarkable discography. His newest album, “Hers,” represents a notable shift from the self-deprecating melancholy that colored his earlier work. Instead, it’s tender and domestic, a collection of intimate love songs rooted in the security of a long-term relationship. His ongoing tour, “Tour For You My Whole Life,” translates that intimacy to the stage, inviting audiences to take a glimpse into the comfortable private corner of the world that “Hers” builds.
I caught Maltese’s 24th tour stop last Thursday, Oct. 23, at the San Diego House of Blues — my first time in the main venue. I had previously only been to shows in the smaller Voodoo Room; coincidentally, Maltese’s last San Diego performance, back in 2019, was in the Voodoo Room for a small crowd of 30. This month, he stood before a packed hall, his career growth mapped out as literally as it was emotionally.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t immediately taken with “Hers” when I first listened to it on Spotify. Its softness felt too quiet and its tone too uniform on recording, but hearing those same songs live was an entirely different experience. Maltese’s performance was dynamic, transforming the studio tracks into an intensely visceral experience. His songs resonated so deeply with me that, at some points, I convinced myself that I had polyphonic perception. By the end of the night, “Hers” had completely won me over.
Even from my spot toward the back, where I could barely see the stage, the visual experience was magnetic. Maltese’s stage lighting did much of the heavy lifting; during quieter songs, a soft golden glow settled on the stage, shifting to hazy blues and warm pinks as the energy rose. For the dramatic chorus of “As the World Caves In,” sharp red lights pulsated in sync with Maltese’s pounding piano keys — a perfect visual echo of the song’s emotional chaos. Together, these elements created a concert experience that felt deeply physical: Each sad song settled heavily in my chest, while the brighter ones tingled through my fingertips.
Maltese struck a careful balance between newer tracks from “Hers” and old favorites in his setlist. Crowd-pleasers like “Curl Up & Die” and “Krystal” drew out full-throated sing-alongs, while the “Hers” tracks were met with reverence, the mesmerized audience leaning in and listening.
Maltese’s meticulous curation of song order is what really made me change my mind about “Hers.” In those moments of calm between the theatrics, the album’s quiet intimacy finally had room to shine.
Sometime during the show, a sudden burst of energy came not from Maltese himself, but from his band. The clarinet solo during “Arthouse Cinema” was so unexpectedly sharp and expressive that I found myself laughing out loud from surprise and admiration. At that moment, I had the fleeting — and slightly regretful — thought that I maybe should have taken middle school band more seriously. Watching these musicians tear through their parts with such precision and joy reminded me of how much artistry goes into live performance, not just from the frontman, but from everyone on stage.
What I couldn’t see past the sea of heads and phone screens, I could feel instead. The music filled every inch of the room. It’s easy to think that seeing the artist is what makes a concert special, but this show reminded me that the best performances aren’t always about sight — sometimes, they’re about sound. Maltese’s show was less a concert and more a full-body experience, the kind that hums long after the final note. The night’s sad songs and heartwrenching performances made their mark, and yet, as the lights came up, I didn’t feel heavy — just quietly fulfilled.