


"I'm never doing a tour with seats again." "Travis' fans are a little younger," Stromberg continues. He wants to get his fans onstage and get them to stage-dive – but there's chairs." He theorizes that "it's a numbers thing – I think you can sell more tickets when you do seats than when you do general admission." Scott says, "I can't speak to that," but confirms that he prefers the unmanaged vibe of a big, chair-free pit, where crowds can more readily cut loose: "Pffft," he says. "I mean, Travis brings the energy, but there's been seating at every show. "The energy's been a little strange show-to-show on this tour," Stromberg says. It's fun making music on the road – I got a whole studio bus." He plops down on a couch, gets lost in his phone. Formulating a story, the picture I'm trying to paint. He spent all of today holed up on his bus, he tells me, working on new tracks that might wind up on his next album: "Just chillin', recording. Originally from Houston, Scott rolled into the Bay Area early this morning, following a show in Vancouver. He's winding down a 20-show tour opening for Kendrick Lamar. " 'Get the fuck out the way!' " he cries.

The diagram, titled "BRON ISO," contains LeBron James–centric directives such as "KYRIE PASS IT" and "JR GET THE FUCK OUT THE WAY." "This is, like, the last thing Tyronn Lue wrote," Stromberg says, referring to the Cavs' coach.

Oracle is home to the Golden State Warriors, and Stromberg says that the Cleveland Cavaliers used this space as their locker room during the finals in June. Scott's manager, David Stromberg, brings Scott's attention to a dry-erase board, tucked behind a curtain, where a basketball play has been diagrammed in marker. "Let's get this bitch turnt!" he yells at no one in particular, letting the scooter fall to the carpet. He's at the Oracle Arena in Oakland, about to face a sold-out crowd. He makes for a catering table lined with Fruit Roll-Ups, Honey Buns, Lucky Charms and – for good measure – two bottles of Don Julio 1942 tequila. Travis Scott bursts into his dressing room on a scooter, trailing assorted entourage and radiating the rich aroma of good weed.
