Greed, Glory and Seats

Is it greed, arrogance, or a hunger for fame? Whatever it is, it’s turning the once-unified Filipino concert scene in America into a battlefield of egos, scams, and financial disasters.

They’re everywhere now—self-declared “producers” who appear out of nowhere like mushrooms after the rain. No background in event production. No industry experience. Just deep pockets, louder mouths, and a burning desire to slap the title "PRODUCER" next to their names—at any cost.

The result? Concert chaos. Community confusion. And more flops than hits.

When Too Many Shows Kill the Show

Just last month in New York, three popular Filipino acts—BINI, Orange and Lemons, and Sweet Notes—all performed in New York on the same night. You read that right. Three concerts. One city. Same Filipino crowd.

What happened next was painfully predictable. Audiences were split. Ticket sales tanked. And one of the producers walked away with massive losses. Instead of lifting up the community, it divided it.

“This is not showbiz anymore,” one frustrated artist told us off the record. “This is a circus. A disorganized, ego-driven circus.”

Once Friends, Now Foes

Because of these overlapping events and uncoordinated efforts, once-close friends in the production scene have turned into sworn enemies. There’s gossip. Backstabbing. Legal threats. And worse, artists are being dragged into the mess.

"Shows are being canceled last-minute, artists are left unpaid, and communities are losing trust," said a former promoter who asked not to be named. "Filipino talents deserve better. So does the audience."

Big Talk, Empty Wallets

The financial damage is real. Investors who poured thousands of dollars into these productions are still waiting for their money back. Some never will.

There are horror stories making the rounds—like the Washington, D.C. concert where the show earned money, the crowd showed up, but no one got paid. The producer vanished. The venue was never compensated. 

Even worse, the venue management thought they were dealing with a "respected" Filipino producer—only to be conned.

“It’s an embarrassment to our community,” said a longtime Filipino-American advocate. “We work so hard to uplift our artists, and then this happens.”

When Everyone Wants to Be “The Producer”

There is a group of producers that claim to work together—but instead of cooperation, it’s a constant battle of egos. Everyone wants to be the boss. Everyone wants to be the producer.

Insiders say it’s all about status. Clout. Who can fly in the biggest names from Manila. Who can take selfies backstage. Who can post the flashiest Instagram stories.

Meanwhile, shows flop. Reputations burn. And the Filipino community—the very people these concerts are supposedly for—are left disappointed and divided.

Time to Wake Up

The truth is painful but simple: If Filipino producers in the U.S. can’t set aside their pride, coordinate events, and act professionally, more concerts will fail. More artists will suffer. More money will go down the drain.

Imagine the possibilities if producers actually worked together. Concerts could be spaced out, marketed properly, and supported by the full community. Everyone could earn. Every artist could shine.

But until then, the stage remains crowded—not with talent, but with titles, egos, and empty promises.