For the first time in its history, finalists from Pinoy Big Brother Gen 11, Fyang Smith, Rain Celmar, Kolette Madelo, and Kai Montinola, are set to headline solo concerts at SM North EDSA Skydome. Not as a group, and not even on the same night. These concerts are booked on separate dates, with Celmar’s concert happening on May 30, Madelo on June 1, Smith on June 22, and Montinola on June 28. Each one with its own title, branding, and supposed narrative. The only unifying factor is that they all come from the same batch of Pinoy Big Brother. Among them, grand winner Smith is billed with more sections and seating options. Hardcore fans may argue she earned it, but there is a creeping suspicion that something more calculated is going on.
While the lineup has sparked excitement for fans, it has also raised a more sobering question: What exactly are these concerts for? Are they celebrations of artistic merit, or merely tests to see which names can convert social media engagement into ticket sales? As one commenter put it on a Facebook post showing the artists’ color-coded promotional flyers, this might be a case of “testing the waters on who is bankable.” That’s not an unfair read. These are litmus tests on marketability in a landscape driven less by music and more by metrics.
Each of the concerts comes with its own album launch: Meteor Rain!, Call Me… Kolette!, Kai’s the Limit, and Forever Fyang. Their post-“Bahay ni Kuya” foray into music ranges from Smith’s overwrought covers of December Avenue’s “Eroplanong Papel” and Orange & Lemons’ “Hanggang Kailan,” to Madelo’s passable attempt at Beyoncé’s “Take a Bow.” But the decision to debut full-blown solo shows for each of these contestants with no single original song under their belt doesn’t say much about their musical readiness. Instead, it reflects how easily the concept of a “concert” can be repackaged into something closer to a glorified meet-and-greet. In a time where anyone can stage a concert, the question becomes whether they should, and if their material is strong enough to match the scale and significance of the venue they’re handed.
Celmar details her concert in an interview at a behind-the-scenes shoot, describing her album as a mix of genres: ballad, R&B, pop, “halos lahat ng genre andon.” But saying your album has everything isn’t the same as saying it’s cohesive, or even compelling enough to warrant a solo concert slot. That’s not just a critique of Celmar or any one finalists, but a broader reflection on the state of the industry. Too often, commercial machinery elevates performance before performance is even proven.
Fan Meet Culture
This trend isn’t new. We’ve seen similar pushes in the “fan meet” culture imported from Korea, with actors headlining arena-scale events for what often amounts to staged Q&As and photo ops. Those events blur the line between star power and artistic contribution. Pinoy Big Brother concerts aren’t far off. What’s at stake is the meaning of the concert itself. When stages meant for artists who have spent years honing their craft are turned into reality-TV victory laps, it erodes the space for those who genuinely need that platform.
There’s no denying these performers have their following, and to some extent, a concert is part of the package when grooming a multi-hyphenate celebrity. But that doesn’t mean the public has to accept it without question. The distinction between art and entertainment matters, and just because an artist is visible doesn’t mean they’re ready for the weight of the stage. It’s not gatekeeping to expect more; it’s respect for the medium and those who treat it like something other than a career checkpoint. Still, in a business that thrives on perception over process, the industry will keep betting on whoever makes the most noise, whether or not there’s substance beneath the shine.
