Travis Scott’s ‘Circus Maximus’ Becomes the Highest-Grossing Solo Rap Tour Ever

Travis Scott performs onstage during his “Circus Maximus” World Tour. The record-breaking global trek grossed more than $265 million across six continents, making it the highest-grossing solo rap tour in history, according to Live Nation. (Photo courtesy of Travis Scott / Cactus Jack)

Travis Scott has closed the loop on a story few artists could survive.

The Houston rapper ended his globe-spanning “Circus Maximus” World Tour on Nov. 19 with a stadium blowout in Mumbai, India before more than 40,000 fans — the finale to a two-year run that’s now the highest-grossing solo rap tour in history, according to Live Nation and Billboard Boxscore.

By the numbers, the achievement is staggering: more than 2.2 million tickets sold, $265 million grossed, and stops on six continents from South Africa to Seoul. But behind the victory lap lies a harder question — what does triumph look like for an artist whose brand was once synonymous with chaos?

Scott’s partnership with Live Nation, the same promoter behind the 2021 “Astroworld Festival” that ended in tragedy, has quietly become one of the most scrutinized second acts in music history. After years of investigations, lawsuits, and public backlash, both sides were under pressure to prove that the artist and the infrastructure could coexist safely again. So far, they have. Eighty shows, no major incidents — and a narrative that’s shifted from controversy to control.

Still, Scott’s tour wasn’t without unease. The scale itself — a rotating stage, fire bursts, 475 performances of “FE!N,” and crowds topping 100,000 across India — rekindled memories of the dangerous synergy between fandom and frenzy that once defined his shows. The difference this time was choreography, not chaos. Stadiums were carefully engineered, capacity managed, and cameras tracked nearly every surge.

Fueled by his 2023 album “Utopia,” the production played like a global reboot of Scott’s mythology: part redemption arc, part empire expansion. The trek began in North America before spilling into Europe, Asia, Latin America, and the Middle East — bringing the rage, but also restraint, to audiences that had only watched it unfold online.

There were no public apologies built into this run, no explicit reckonings — just bigger venues, tighter logistics, and a setlist that reminded fans why his stage power was so coveted in the first place. At his best, Scott turned arena rap into cinematic theater. At his worst, he reminded everyone how thin the line between spectacle and catastrophe can be.

In Mumbai, as fireworks closed out the final show, Scott stood as both symbol and survivor — a Houston artist who turned a near career-ending disaster into an unprecedented global haul. Whether “Circus Maximus” represents redemption or simply reinvention depends on who’s watching.

Jimmy Cliff, the Voice Who Carried Jamaica to the World, Dies at 81

Jimmy Cliff performs at the 2012 Raggamuffin Music Festival in New Zealand. (Photo by Eva Rinaldi / Wikimedia Commons / CC BY-SA 2.0.)

Before Bob Marley — before global playlists turned “One Love” into a slogan — there was Jimmy Cliff, the voice that made the world stop and listen to Jamaica. He carried Kingston’s hunger, rhythm and pride onto movie screens and record players everywhere with “The Harder They Come,” the 1972 cult classic that didn’t just soundtrack a movement, it invented one. Cliff died Monday at 81 from a seizure followed by pneumonia, his family confirmed.

“To all his fans around the world, please know that your support was his strength throughout his whole career,” his wife, Latifa Cliff, wrote on his official page, thanking friends, artists and the doctors who cared for him. “Jimmy, my darling, may you rest in peace.”

Cliff was the sound of rebellion turned spiritual. Born James Chambers in rural St. James Parish, he came up through Kingston’s rough, brilliant scene in the early ’60s, recording ska sides before reggae even had a name. By the time he crossed the Atlantic to the U.K., his writing — “Many Rivers to Cross,” “You Can Get It If You Really Want,” “Vietnam” — was already global protest music: hopeful, unbowed and honest about pain.

Then came “The Harder They Come.”

In Perry Henzell’s film, Cliff played Ivan Martin, the poor dreamer who cuts a record, gets cheated and turns outlaw when the system boxes him in. The movie’s grit, humor and tragic swagger mirrored Jamaica’s post-independence struggle and pushed reggae from local rhythm to international statement. Every artist who’s ever rapped, sung or filmed about hustle and betrayal owes something to it.

The film’s story — ambition, betrayal and survival against a rigged system — would later echo through hip-hop, the kind of hustler narrative artists from Jay-Z to Nas would identify with. Its soundtrack remains a cornerstone of global Black storytelling: defiant, spiritual, cinematic.

I don’t know if it’s possible for someone to be more alive than Jimmy Cliff is in this clip from The Harder They Come. I don’t think I can put into words what this whole record means to me. It’s overwhelming in so many ways, his positivity in the face of sadness… his incredible… pic.twitter.com/oHDG7Bb4bn

— Benny safdie (@benny_safdie) November 24, 2025

Film director Benny Safdie captured that energy perfectly in a post Monday: “I don’t know if it’s possible for someone to be more alive than Jimmy Cliff is in this clip from ‘The Harder They Come,’” he wrote. “His positivity in the face of sadness… his incredible performance here. He’s still here! JIMMY CLIFF.”

Cliff never chased Marley’s saintly myth; he stayed the restless craftsman. His 2012 album “Rebirth” — which earned him a Grammy and a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction — sounded like a man circling back to first principles. “One has to go back to point zero to move forward again,” he told NPR that year, recording with the same live-band energy that birthed reggae itself.

Tributes poured in across the music world. Trojan Records called him “a true pioneer whose songs and spirit helped carry reggae across the world.” UB40 said he’d “finally crossed over the last river.” On social media, messages from African and Caribbean artists hailed him as a revolutionary who used melody as protest and rhythm as hope.

From Kingston’s studios to Burkina Faso’s revolutionary stages, where he once performed at the invitation of Thomas Sankara, Cliff’s voice became a vessel for resistance, unity and joy. Few artists balanced defiance and grace so completely.

Jimmy Cliff is survived by his wife, Latifa, and their children, Lilty and Aken. Further memorial details are expected.

Judge Sentences Fugees Founder Pras Michel to 14 Years in Federal Case

MiamiFilmFestival, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Prakazrel “Pras” Michel, the Grammy-winning rapper and founding member of the Fugees, was sentenced Thursday to 14 years in federal prison, closing a years-long foreign influence case that prosecutors said represented one of the most brazen political donation schemes in modern U.S. history. Michel, 53, stood silently as U.S. District Judge Colleen Kollar-Kotelly delivered the sentence in a Washington, D.C. courtroom.

A federal jury convicted Michel in April 2023 of 10 counts, including conspiracy, acting as an unregistered agent of a foreign government, witness tampering and submitting false statements. According to prosecutors, Michel funneled millions from Malaysian financier Low Taek Jho — the fugitive behind the 1MDB scandal — into Barack Obama’s 2012 reelection campaign through a network of straw donors. Prosecutors said Michel later attempted to interfere with a Justice Department investigation into Low and lied repeatedly during the course of the scheme.

Federal sentencing guidelines recommended a life term. In their filing, prosecutors wrote that Michel “betrayed his country for money” and “lied unapologetically and unrelentingly to carry out his schemes.” They argued, “His sentence should reflect the breadth and depth of his crimes, his indifference to the risks to his country, and the magnitude of his greed.”

Michel’s attorneys called the 14-year punishment excessive. Defense lawyer Peter Zeidenberg told reporters the sentence was “completely disproportionate to the offense,” reiterating the team’s position that a life recommendation was “absurdly high” and normally reserved for terrorists or cartel leaders. In a sentencing memo, they wrote that the government’s stance “would cause Inspector Javert to recoil” and illustrated how federal guidelines “can be manipulated to produce absurd results.” Michel plans to appeal.

Michel’s trial drew national attention, in part because of witnesses such as Leonardo DiCaprio — who testified about Low’s involvement in financing the film “The Wolf of Wall Street” — and former Attorney General Jeff Sessions. Low, who has lived in China since fleeing charges in the United States, maintains his innocence.

Prosecutors said Michel obtained more than $120 million from Low and routed a portion of it into Obama’s campaign. They also said Michel attempted to influence the government’s investigation into Low and tampered with witnesses to obstruct the case. His attorneys argued that Low’s goal was less sinister, writing that Low simply “wanted to obtain a photograph with himself and then-President Obama.”

Michel’s legal troubles have unfolded alongside a long and complicated legacy. As one-third of the Fugees — alongside Lauryn Hill and Wyclef Jean — Michel helped define an era in hip-hop that blended Caribbean roots, political consciousness and mainstream success. The trio sold tens of millions of albums and earned two Grammy Awards, becoming one of the most influential groups of the 1990s.

The current case, however, has overshadowed Michel’s musical legacy. In August 2024, Judge Kollar-Kotelly denied Michel’s request for a new trial, rejecting his claim that his attorney’s use of a generative AI program during closing arguments constituted ineffective assistance of counsel. The judge wrote that, even if “ill-advised,” the AI usage and other alleged errors did not amount to a miscarriage of justice.

Michel, dressed in a suit, declined to speak during sentencing. He was taken into custody immediately after the hearing.

The sentence ends a remarkable fall for an artist once positioned at the center of one of hip-hop’s most celebrated groups. It now places Michel among the highest-profile musicians convicted in a federal influence case, closing a chapter that has stretched across more than a decade and leaving the future of his public life uncertain as he prepares to begin a lengthy prison term.