Well, folks, brace yourselves. Ed Sheeran—the human equivalent of a cozy sweater and a lukewarm cup of tea—has announced yet another stadium tour. Because apparently, the last 47 times he played "Shape of You" to a crowd of 80,000 wasn't enough. The man is a machine, and the machine runs on loop pedals and pure, unfiltered British determination.
The tour, creatively titled the "+–=÷x Tour" (which I assume you pronounce by throwing your laptop out a window), will hit stadiums across North America starting next summer. Tickets go on sale Friday, and if you think you're getting one without selling a kidney, you clearly haven't tried to buy concert tickets since 2019. Good luck, champ.
Now, let's be real. Ed Sheeran is undeniably talented. He can write a hook that lodges in your brain like a tick. He can loop a guitar riff and make it sound like a full band. He's the guy who shows up at your party with an acoustic guitar and somehow doesn't get asked to leave. That's a skill.
But a stadium tour? Again? The man just finished a tour that lasted roughly the lifespan of a golden retriever. He played 260 shows. He broke attendance records. He probably has a permanent imprint of a stadium floor on his soul. And now he's doing it all over again. Why? Because the alternative is sitting at home with his thoughts, and have you heard his thoughts? They're mostly about love and math symbols.
The real kicker here is the ticket prices. In this economy? Where a single avocado costs more than my first car? Ed's team hasn't announced pricing yet, but let's be honest—it's going to be "sell your plasma" territory. The average fan is looking at $150 for nosebleeds, $400 for anything decent, and a cool $1,200 if you want to be close enough to see the loop pedal in action. And that's before Ticketmaster's "convenience fee," which is Latin for "we hate you."
And what do you get for that money? You get to stand in a field with 70,000 strangers, all of whom are singing "Perfect" slightly off-key while filming vertical videos on their phones. You get to pay $18 for a warm beer. You get to watch Ed Sheeran do the same setlist he's been doing for three years, plus maybe one new song about how much he loves his wife. It's a magical experience, if your definition of magic is "crowded and expensive."
But here's the thing—people will go. They'll go in droves. They'll bring their kids, their partners, their reluctant friends who only know "Castle on the Hill." They'll sing along. They'll cry during "Photograph." They'll leave with a T-shirt that cost more than their monthly streaming subscription. And Ed will count his money from a dressing room that's probably nicer than most apartments.
Is it worth it? Depends on how much you love loop pedals and emotional acoustic ballads. But let's not pretend this is some noble artistic endeavor. This is a business. Ed Sheeran is a corporation wearing a hoodie. And we're all just shareholders who get a lanyard and a mediocre hot dog.
So go ahead, buy your tickets. Set your alarm for 10 AM. Refresh that page until your fingers cramp. Just don't come crying to me when you realize you spent your rent money to watch a ginger guy play guitar in a football stadium. Actually, do come crying. I'll be there too, just with better seats and a smug sense of superiority.
**Final take:** Ed Sheeran is a brilliant musician and a ruthless capitalist, and his tour is proof that we'll pay anything to feel something for three hours. The math checks out, even if our bank accounts don't.