Dreamchasers 2 was a seminal moment in the last decade of rap for a myriad of reasons. It proved that the cornrow-dawning Philly freestyle phenom wasn’t just a legitimization of the Maybach Music militia to the "real hip-hop" crowd. It built upon hits like “Tupac Back”, “House Party”, “Ima Boss” and “Fitted Cap” all of which had become anthemic staples in house parties and within the Skull Candy headphones of anyone with an internet connection. In this era only Waka Flocka Flame was able to create such an inherently destructive and freeing brand of rap music, and Meek was bringing it to everyone from the basketball highlight reel makers to the drive time radio DJ's. As opposed to Waka who was a regional megastar that caught a hit and a half nationally. Meek at this point in history was re-writing the code of what infectious high octane rap anthems could be like DMX had before him. On this historic tape was also the first time much of the world heard Travi$ Scott, the next man up after Meek to create those same stadium shaking tunes that will outlive most people reading this article. Dreamchasers 2 was downloaded over 2.5 million times in 24 hours, breaking Datpiff’s servers faster and longer than any tape by Lil Wayne, Jeezy or Wiz Khalifa. More people heard Travi$ Scott in those first 24 hours than the previous 20 years of his life. Over the next 16 months Travi$ would be announced as an official signee under Kanye’s G.O.O.D Music and T.I.’s Grand Hustle imprints, features would appear on records with Jay-Z, Pusha T and Diddy, and he'd clock 3 official production credits on Yeezus, all building to the release of Owl Pharaoh. He was the last Blog Era baby to jump off the porch, and like those of his ilk he gently weaved into both streetwear and high fashion scenes. There was a shift at his shows from the antiquated "put your hands up" motif to incorporating the cathartic moshing from hard core shows into hip-hop etiquette in a way only Insane Clown Posse saw returns on. All this built the lore of him being the rightful heir to Kanye as hip-hops paramount MC / producer / fashioinista / cultural boundary bender, which never truthfully came to fruition (although after Rodeo it didn’t seem TOO far fetched). Instead he became a grander soloist than Diddy, but less of an icon compared to Pharrell.
The only constant that has stayed true in Travi$’ whole career is the legend of his live performance. The quality of how the performance will be run and the safety of it has always been up for debate (proven by the dozens killed and injured at his shoddily prepared Astroworld Festival in 2021), but the legend of his shows had only grown up until that point. There was 2015's Rodeo tour featuring Young Thug and Metro Boomin at their early apex’s, Astroworld's official tour that had Sheck Wes, Gunna and Trippie Redd as openers, as well as resume opening up for Kendrick Lamar, Rihanna and The Weeknd on their headlining runs. Stage production limitations have been pushed to breaking points with his active roller coasters and flying animatronic eagles. Stage divers were (previously) welcomed as accents to his lurching pounces up and down the risers. Yet with mixed reviews to Utopia, his target demographic in large part aging out of their angsty teen cycle with a pandemic and controversy muddled 5 year period in between that limited creating a second generation of fans, and just overall economic inflation, Leg 1 of the Circus Maximus tour was a bit of a bust. Half empty arenas, canceled dates, and single digit resell prices showed a possible end to his reign. For nearly a decade he was the face of youthful misguided negligence, and actual tragedy finally boiled over and made it all real. This all made Leg 2 of Circus Maximus so interesting. I wasn't planning on going to a funeral for the career of an era-defining artist, but the hole is dug and the casket is open for him at any moment.
Boy: "Black Skinhead for sure."
Girl A: "Really? Of all the songs?"
Boy: "It just fits the Travi$ vibe more. It's dark and hard."
Girl A: "Not something older? I'd like more classic stuff. The super old stuff."
Girl B: "Like Graduation stuff?"
Girl A: "Like Late Registration stuff."
Boy: "Through The Wire" is not gonna hit in here, hard pass"
It was a time killer to overhear while waiting for the honor of buying a $60 tee shirt, and showed 2 things; 1) if Graduation is considered "super old stuff" i'm beyond washed and 2) there's a chance my $50 ticket got me in to see Veeze, Babyface Ray, Skilla Baby, Travi$ Scott, and Kanye fucking West.
A single piano key hit. The fucking piano key. That E key that was first revealed at the 2010 VMA's created hysteria through the arena i'd never heard in my decade of concert going. Everyone in my row hadn't legally sipped a beer yet, probably never bought a physical Ye album, hadn't yet tracked down a .zip file of Get Well Soon, and the odds were slim they could go bar-for-bar on the "Side 2 Side" remix, but they were all supercharged with a giddy built up from years of buying into the story of the an era defining auteur. The one who brought in rappers, singers, fashion silhouettes, and rollout plans that influenced everything in commerce since. The wrap around screen cut to a Jason mask dawning Ye walking thru the tunnel to appear on top of the stage. His eyes were piercing, focused on what was ahead of him like a lion prepared to pounce. All 15 E keys were unheard over the screams of those in attendance. A guy 2 rows below me grabbed his own hair so hard I thought he would be bald whenever he let go. I think I blacked out for a few minutes. Kanye didn't mutter a full line once he stepped on to the long disjointed stage, just setting the mic on the ground while the entire arena sung to him his own scripture while the "Runaway" instrumental played. It was Michael Jackson's iconic stare down from the Dangerous tour rehashed, and worked with about 85% effectiveness. No amount of stoic animation on Earth could break the concentration of the 20,000ish people cracking their voices to hit the "douchebag" line just the way we'd all practiced for over a decade. After a brief pause, "Vultures" started playing, Bump J took over vocal duties, and that illustrious joy soured into discomfort. Not only does the song suck live as much as it does from the comfort of headphones, but none of the men on the ancient platform seemed happy about being center stage outside of Bump. Ty Dolla $ign had joined the crew, and even he in his Blade outfit seemed unamused. How even behind a mask Ye could carry such a scowling aura across a stadium was chilling. There was no joy on the ruins. The sculptures, and everyone surrounding it, was minimized to his enemy. This wasn't a fun venture to let off steam and have a celebratory mentor mentee moment to commemorate another tour run; it was a favor called in to someone who had 20 other more pressing ways to spend his night. Promoting this new song, winning back some good faith, and getting a fit off was all that adorned his todo list. Ye's verse fully shattered what joy was left. Quickly it hits you, "oh yeah, that's right, this isn't that same man anymore who gave us My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy". It's 2024 and the Hitler backing, titanium teethed tyrant who'd been galavanting barefoot around Europe lying about release dates for an album nobody wanted anymore was in front of us. Lines about fucking a Scooter Braun ex and the impossibility he was antisemitic because he slept with a Jewish woman brought eye-rolls by the thousands. The years of Trump coddling and claiming "slavery was a choice", alongside torturing engineers and assistants through grueling outbursts and endless studio sessions was on a screen bigger than a city block. The song ended with Ye subtly announcing "February 9th" for the crowd, an allusion to a final Vultures release date. What could come next? A rant about the presidential primaries? Shots at that TMZ reporter? Does he know Coby White dropped 35 tonight? Does he even care about the Bulls anymore? Was he gonna do 4Batz karaoke?
"DELRESTO" rang hollow to an empty stage. Wherever Travi$ had gone was irrelevant, the entire arena was drained. It took about 3 more songs and another set of awkward crowd work for the emotions to regulate. Even the opening section of "Maria I'm Drunk" left us blank. Following Kanye is an impossible task, but no way you could end the show this early. "I Know?" was his "break glass incase of emergency" record, finally rejuvenating the arena. Hits rained in or the rest of the night. "90210" turned into a sing-along, under hellish red lights "MELTDOWN"s menacing crawl took over, "TOPIA TWINS" brought a mosh pit to our row. The paranormal synth of "FE!N" got a 5 second introduction before a kid rushed and was quickly tackled on stage. At the time it felt like a skit. Travi$ went forehead to forehead with the teen preaching what it meant to be a rager. "Real ragers don't interrupt the show". After, as the reformed forgiving ringleader he is, he granted sanctuary to the rusher, letting him kick it on stage and on the fencing for the remainder of the show. Counting the few false starts my "FE!N" Counter hit 11 straight. Each time the track never hit Carti's Future impression, rather cutting off and restarting with the floodlights focused on a new section of the crowd. Thousands of teenage boys swinging their shirts in the sky like drunken futbol fans after a game winner showed the power of Scott's commands. He roasted the exhausted chaperones sitting in the audience ("look at this guy, probably fucking night trading to buy more tickets for his kids") and thanked the few who were raging along with their children (shoutout the guy who cashed in on his screen time by flexing his Public Enemy shirt). The trio of "Sicko Mode", "Antidote" and "Goosebumps" sent the voyeurs into a tizzy. Everyone who had crashed into their chair by the 5th "FE!N'' playback bounced back to attention. Future's hymn of a "TELEKINESIS" verse signaled the end of the show, guiding Scott as he mumbled into the mic, walking back downstairs as the camera crew followed him. In front of the George Kondo Circus Maximus poster in the hallway he thanked his fans, Ye, and everyone for letting the show come to life by hitting the Jimmy Butler lean on the brick wall, fumbling through his verse. Exiting the arena you could still hear SZA’s heavenly cries shake the emptying bowl. Huffing down the stairs a young couple argued about the show.
Girl: “What do you mean? It was fucking Kanye?”
Guy: “Nah that was cool, but I was excited for Veeze too. “Safe 2” and “Not A Drill” were gonna go crazy.”
Girl: “You’re insane”
Guy: “I was cool on missing Ray, but “Runaway” was crazy I guess.”
How anyone could languish over a Kanye performance is beyond me, even as a Veeze die hard i’d trade hearing “GOMD” live for “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” without flinching. The sound of buskers grew louder as the hum of the streets peaked into the stairwell. Scott’s 12-year run was incomparable. A blend of Kid Cudi, Waka Flocka, and peak Atlanta-trap had morphed through eras hollowing out his own life to become a skeleton living in a dreamworld of his own creation. Utopia 
tracks live as a majority left me feeling unmoved the way it had in my headphones the past year. The husk of Travi$ Scott could still sell anything and draw crowds like a superstar, but even the fans told by their reaction how they felt. He’s over the hill. Nostalgia and label backed hits and viral stunts were keeping him afloat. “TOPIA TWINS” and “I KNOW?” paled alongside the deepest cuts of “Mamacita” and “No Bystanders”. Ye showing removed, the legend of La Flame’s live shows were too tall; it was an impossible standard to reach. As a production it’s unquestionably the most elaborate presentation i’d ever seen, leaving Tyler The Creator or peak Chance The Rapper in the dust. But it was a MEC Suit; a system of robotics and fireworks giving power to someone that without them is just another guy. To keep A-list status for this long is an accomplishment of itself, but nobody can be at their peak forever. Travi$ in many ways came through on his promise to be a second coming of Ye in that way. It's hard to imagine a world where Kanye isn't the center of the zeitgeist, yet the last 8 years have been just that. He's a tumor; it can't be ripped away in full overnight, but rather slowly disintegrated in a way that makes you wonder how we'll be on the other side. What will take his place? Scott couldn't do it, and Drake isn't nearly as artistically fulfilling a character as we want him to be. Sometimes you just need to see a person lying in the box for yourself to know they’re really gone, and this felt like the casket finally closing for both. The end of the 2 legged tour can be seen as the real line of demarcation for both acts. Vultures has shown no promise that an even palatable version of Kanye can return, and Scott is running on fumes. What comes next for either doesn't really matter, we have no choice but to appreciate the past and push on now that the story is sealed.
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