BLACKPINK and the IRL algorithm of the Deadline World Tour

The 2025-2026 BLACKPINK Deadline World Tour is aptly named, assumed by fans to be the group’s last. The four “idols,” known to the world as; Jennie, Jisoo, Lisa, and Rosé, have come under criticism for their performances appearing “low energy” or “out of sync” by stans and press alike. Betsy Reed for The Guardian asked “Is the deadline age? Solo success? Fleeting consumer attention?” It seems to me, as a KPOP outsider, that the deadline is the threshold of packaging oneself for the eyes of the KPOP algorithm.

When I first met my boyfriend he couldn’t stop bragging to my friend about his tickets to the tour—it was a narrative arc complete, then, seeing them at CitiField together on July 26^th. Having not yet dipped in the KPOP waters, I paid my respects with pre-game setlist streaming. It quickly became clear, through album imagery and genres, that each woman was leaning into an archetype to separate from their group identity (and therefore one another). Even as KPOP newcomers, their distinct “brands” presented themselves at CitiField, my boyfriend and I saying to each other:

“Lisa is the rapper, Jennie is the dancer.”

“Rosé is going all Taylor Swift songwriter.”

And, comparison beckoned by the sight of four women together on stage, “Which is your favorite?”

Branding in pop music isn’t new—see: Taylor Swift eras—especially in girl groups–see: The Spice Girls’ nicknames. Commodifying one’s image is inherent to the contemporary slinging of records, but not in such a widely accepted, publicized, and industrialized means as in the KPOP “idol factory.” Through programs like the Hanlin School of Arts, thousands of young hopefuls train sometimes 16 hours/day for the chance to join a group, with less than 1% “making it big.” If you’re lucky enough to join a group, in addition to singing and dancing training, wannabe-idols are tasked with defining their personas relative to fellow members. Even though personal branding is a tale as old as time for performers, particularly women, it’s accelerated in the digital age as we productize ourselves through curation of our own image, and intensified by the industry of star making in South Korea.

At the Deadline tour, even when the women performed as a group, the jumbotron was often split into four, inviting us to scrutinize them as individuals on a TikTok-style vertical screen. These close-ups seemingly replicated the popularity of KPOP fan cam videos. The quartered screen also displayed performers that knew each move but lacked energy and passion to support their shimmering synth—to which I say, I’d be tired, too, if my image were “controlled” for the “money making formula” of KPOP. 

It seems, though, that BLACKPINK’s solo-careers are opportunities to step away from the idol-factory identities. A look at each member’s Instagram page reveals the same glamor and playfulness of any other privileged and fabulous woman entering her thirties, as if the veneer of rehearsed perfection falls loose. But, after years of cultivating perfection in the idol factory, who’s to say that their parasocial projection isn’t just another box to perform in?

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