Unpacking the Astroworld tragedy

Content warning: mention of injury and death

I’d like to bring us back to the fall of 2019. During this time, I was experiencing a classic case of midterm procrastination. My forays into online dating meant that the perfect way to spend my Thursday night was to go for drinks with an algorithmically compatible stranger. After my date and I went through the motions of first-date small talk—what we studied, what year we were in, where we grew up—we finally discovered a shared passion for music. Was Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange or Blonde the better album? Was Drake really worth the hype? How did Kanye’s public struggles with his mental health impact his music? (My date’s answer to this last question was a bit of a red flag, but that’s a story for another time).

When it came to discussing Travis Scott’s music, I quickly learned that, in my date’s words, Scott’s music had “saved his life.” Travis Scott is a talented producer and musician, but a lifesaver? I wasn’t easily convinced. 

Now, Scott is not the only artist whose lifesaving abilities I have doubts about, and I do respect and appreciate that music taste is subjective. Exploring his struggles with fame, young adulthood, alcohol, and drug use, Scott reminds his fans to live boldly. His distinct sadboy, psychedelic albums are well-produced and meticulously curated. While the topics Scott explores in his music aren’t particularly inventive, the impact of his music on his fans is undeniable. 

In the days since the November 5 Astroworld tragedy unfolded—leaving ten dead, hundreds injured, and a flurry of lawsuits—a public “hot potato-ing” of responsibility for the disaster has left us with more questions than answers. Beyond the flooding of social media timelines with terrifying videos of swirling crowd surges and near-death experiences of attendees, an equally strong sentiment that has been circulating the internet is how unsurprising Astroworld’s outcome was for those familiar with Scott’s public persona and history.

In 2015, the singer was charged with reckless conduct after encouraging fans to jump the Lollapalooza stage he was performing on. Two years later, Scott was sued by a fan for being pushed off a balcony at one of his concerts in New York City. Another video making the rounds shows Scott encouraging a fan to jump from a balcony into the crowd at another concert.

With over 45 million followers on Spotify and over 500,000 people reportedly attending Astroworld, a platform of that magnitude is not something any artist should take lightly. 

As the old adage goes: “If Travis Scott told you to jump off a bridge, would you?” For a lot of people, the answer to this question is a resounding “yes.” 

As an artist, if you can’t ensure safe conditions for the people who are willing to support you unconditionally—by buying your albums, merchandise, and supporting various brand deals and collaborations—hasn’t some kind of implicit social contract been breached? I can’t speak to whether Travis Scott was able to see what was going on in the crowd throughout his performance, but running an event with such poorly organized security, medical personnel, and safety procedures has its own implications for how you consider the people who support your career. 

The ability to make music that resonates deeply for so many is a privilege that few can claim. Travis Scott’s fans’ feverish admiration for him is evidence of the pitfalls of not taking this responsibility seriously. Scott has historically done very little to discourage unsafe conditions for his fans. With the artist currently being sued by injured concert goers, alongside a resounding lack of ownership for the event’s (dis)organization, we must re-examine what it means to hold public figures accountable for their actions.