“It’s so sweet, knowing that you love me…”
The lyric from “Sweet” felt like the unspoken theme of the night as Cigarettes After Sex drifted onto the stage at Viejas Arena on Oct. 7 for the X’s World Tour. The crowd, a sea of black with touches of lace and studs, set the mood even before the band played a single note. The space, typically vast and hectic, was transformed into something much more intimate—so much so that it was easy to forget we were in an arena at all. With fog creeping across the floor and the soft glow of minimalistic lighting, it felt like a moment frozen in time.
Cigarettes After Sex are the definition of exhaling.
Before the show even began, fans were already feeling the vibe. San Diego State University students were blasting “Sweet” from their dorms as others waited in line, anticipating the kind of show that promised to be as much an emotional experience as it was a concert. When the band finally appeared, it was less of an entrance and more of an apparition—silhouettes emerging from the mist, in all black, with the lead singer and founder, Greg Gonzalez, in shades and a leather jacket that only added to his effortlessly cool demeanor. Fans screamed out as if introducing each track themselves, recognizing every familiar note before it fully hit.
From the first song, “X’s,” to the hypnotic haze of “Pistol” and “You’re All I Want,” bass player Randall Miller and drummer Jacob Tomsky joined Gonzalez on stage and the three turned the arena into something that felt like a late-night confession. By the third song, the lead singer slowly removed his sunglasses and stepped to the front of the stage, caught in a breeze from the fans as he launched into a searing guitar solo. That moment of vulnerability set the tone for the rest of the night, which was both hauntingly beautiful and powerfully understated.
Newer track “Dark Vacay” brought a slight shift in energy, proving that even in their quieter moments, Cigarettes After Sex can still surprise. The performance was visually entrancing—drummer on the left, guitarist on the right and the stage painted in dark shades of green, black and white.
While the band barely spoke to the crowd, it didn’t matter; the music spoke for itself. During “Touch,” fans closed their eyes, letting the lyrics wash over them. It was a collective trance, the kind of moment that really only a band like Cigarettes After Sex can deliver.
As the set moved into “Falling in Love,” the arena’s energy reached a new peak. Phones lit up like stars with girls hugging and crying as they soaked in every word. The crowd was mesmerized. Then came “Tejano Blue,” with a split screen backdrop showing a sun-splashed skyline in muted shades of the darkest green and black, adding to the already slowcore atmosphere.
Cigarettes After Sex’s dream pop found the perfect match in their visually stunning, yet minimalistic, stage design. Towering spotlights set the mood for “John Wayne,” while “Sesame Syrup” introduced a heartfelt first-time live performance. The hypnotic waterfall backdrop during “Cry” seamlessly transitioned into the crowd’s chorus for “Sweet,” where every lyric was in sync with Gonzalez’s uncanny, studio-accurate voice. As flames flickered embers glowed for “Sunsetz” and embers glowed for “K.,” the set built to “Dreaming of You,” where green thunder and lighting absorbed the backdrop, and spotlights sliced the crowd. This tour brilliantly captured the band’s raw sonic power through immersive visuals.
And then there was “Apocalypse.”
The crowd knew it was coming, but nothing could prepare them for the weight of the lyrics: “Got the music in you, baby, tell me why / You’ve been locked in here forever, and you just can’t say goodbye.” The entire arena felt it—a collective ache, like a long, slow exhale at the end of something they’d been waiting for.
But the night wasn’t quite over yet. In a move that felt like the ultimate tease, the band returned for an encore, closing with “Opera House.” The final image: Gonzalez, Miller and Tomsky handing out guitar picks and handwritten setlists, flashing shy smiles and waving to the crowd as if the whole thing had been a quiet, private gathering.
“It (their music) has helped me in ways I can’t even describe,” concert-goer Jazmin Ruiz said, clutching the band’s setlist and a drumstick from Tomsky. “It puts my emotion into words that I couldn’t do.”
Cigarettes After Sex isn’t just a band you listen to—they’re a band you experience. Their performance at Viejas Arena was a mirage of atmosphere and emotion, filling the space with their brand of slow-burning melancholy and quiet intensity. It was a show that lingered long after the lights went up, a reminder that the softest sounds can really leave the deepest marks.
