One of Pop’s Hottest Groups Has Reached Peak Malfunction. It’s Time to Put It Out of Its Misery

Music One of pop’s hottest groups has reached peak malfunction. This needs to stop. By Enter your email to receive alerts for this author. Sign in or create an account to better manage your email preferences. Unsubscribe from email alerts Are you sure you want to unsubscribe from email alerts for Nadira Goffe? Nov 12, 20266:07 PM Photo illustration by Slate. Photos by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images for Victoria’s Secret and Getty Images Plus. Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily. On Nov. 10, fans of the global girl-group Katseye showed up to watch them perform at the Austin, Texas, stop of their ongoing “Wildworld” tour. Or, more accurately, fans showed up to watch a portion of the group perform. It’s been almost nine months since Eyekons (as Katseye’s fans are called) were shocked by the unexpected news that one of the group’s six members, Manon Bannerman, was inexplicably going on an indefinite hiatus, and a mere two months since the group’s leader, Sophia Laforteza, followed suit, albeit with a return date in mind. Still, with no news of Bannerman’s fate, less than a month after Laforteza’s hiatus announcement, the group’s management companies—South Korea’s Hybe and America’s Geffen Records—had the remaining four members of the sextet embark upon their world tour as planned. Initially, they gamely got through it, although the stage looked noticeably emptier than before. But all hell broke loose when member Megan Skiendiel was revealed to have gotten a concussion, leading to canceled stops in Detroit, Minneapolis, and Chicago, with Detroit attendees receiving the notice less than an hour before the group was supposed to hit the stage. A week later, the “Wildworld” tour was set to continue as scheduled in Austin, with concertgoers receiving a heads-up from the group’s official Instagram account that Skiendiel would be performing with restrictions that included “reduced choreography.” This is how we ended up with the now-viral image of Skiendiel performing seated in a chair, with sunglasses on and mic in hand, while her groupmates danced beside her to their biggest hits. Anyone who has had (or known someone who has had) a concussion can tell you, it comes with debilitating symptoms that can last for days to weeks and even months. Head injuries are nothing to take lightly, and the news that Skiendiel was returning only a week after hers already seemed premature. Then audiences saw her, and that worry was validated when fans watched a company send a girl, likely still concussed, out on stage with strobe lights and loud music. As if that didn’t look bad enough, at the following stop, in Dallas, Skiendiel even performed some dance moves out of the chair, but while retaining the protective glasses and with a fraction of the energy she usually possesses. Sadly, this is only the natural progression for the nightmare that Katseye has become. When I last checked in with the group two months ago, Laforteza’s hiatus and the subsequent illness-related outages of other members had already become the big, bold writing on the wall. A blink of an eye later and this sad, unconscionable situation Skiendiel has come to embody is a sign that one of pop’s hottest acts has officially reached peak malfunction. Someone has to say it: This needs to stop. Either give the girls an extended break or pull the plug and let Katseye go gently into that good night. When Katseye first popped up on the scene in 2024, bright-eyed and feline-tailed, they were primed to take over the world. The group was formed by two industry heavyweights joining forces to do something they felt had never been done before: utilize traditional K-pop development methods to create what they described as the world’s first “global girl group.” The process was documented in the Netflix series Pop Star Academy, which became a streaming hit, and, in turn, primed the group for international ascendancy. From there, the success of hit singles such as “Touch” and “Gnarly,” and their feature in a megaviral 2025 Gap ad, quickly made Katseye a household name, at least among its core audience of young women. The group broke records at the American music festival Lollapalooza in 2025, made Grammys history earlier this year, and landed a coveted slot in the lineup for the famous music festival Coachella—all achievements that would take most acts years to obtain. But, when Bannerman went on hiatus under mysterious circumstances at the height of their fame, that signaled the beginning of a cultural downhill tumble for the group. Despite releasing a new EP and participating in press amid Bannerman’s absence, Katseye’s continued activity in the face of silence from management and group members only created an increased level of public scrutiny on the other girls. Laforteza’s subsequent hiatus, and other members’ consistent absences for illness or injury, were ominous signs for the group’s future. All the while, Eyekons were confused by the group’s artistic choices, as fans grew increasingly put off by what many viewed as a decrease in music quality. Katseye turned into an object of mockery among the teens and young adults who made up most of its initial fanbase. Now, the group appears to be primarily an obsession for children, who are in the right age demographic for what the internet has begun calling the group’s “brainrot” style of music. Everything’s gnarly, indeed. For months, the members of Katseye—who, being between 18 and 24 years old, should be in the peak of their youth and health—have seemed burned out and prone to sickness and harm, like they are a singular eight-count from falling apart. That the group was still releasing music and showing up for nonstop performances and activities despite everything was already foreboding. Still, this is not foreign to the South Korean entertainment industry, which has a dark history of signing its artists to obscenely exploitative contract deals and forcing K-pop idols to keep performing in suboptimal conditions at the expense of their personal health or wellness. The industry has been marred by a number of high-profile idol suicides and lawsuits from idols attempting to fight for better or fairer working conditions. Of course, we do not know what is happening with Katseye behind the scenes, but it certainly doesn’t seem good, even if it is standard in the K-pop industry to which the group owes some of their lineage. On the surface, the ordeal with Skiendiel makes for a hilarious meme (and a pretty damn good Halloween costume, if you’re willing to cart around a chair), but at its core, it is truly worrisome. I was one of Katseye’s first fans, and I’ve written extensively about the trials and tribulations of this group. Still, even I am ready to pull the plug at this point if it means that these girls get to rest and be healthy again. What Katseye needs is a legitimate yearlong break, one in which the girls don’t have to answer to the public, where they can rest and recoup and get strong again, the company can figure out what the hell is going on with Bannerman and give fans some transparency on the matter, and the members can go back to the drawing board and start making good music again. But, in lieu of that, I’d rather the girls in the group—which already seems like it has flatlined—get to go home and eat a nice home-cooked meal, hang out with their family and friends, relax, and experience their youth, rather than do what certainly seems to be exploitative work at the hands of multibillion-dollar corporations. The fans have spoken: Our pinkies are no longer up, but at half-mast. For everyone’s sake, please put Katseye out of its misery. Celebrities Music Pop