There's a question I've been pondering since the Open Mic Asiatique show, and I still haven't found an answer: what exactly makes something Asian art? Is it the artist? The language? Or, the cultural reference points woven into the artist’s work? I went in expecting some version of an answer. But I left mostly with the question, and a sore neck from craning to see people holding their phones, recording every minute of that show as if it were the last show of their lives.

I must admit, the performers displayed genuine talent. Animal Noir, Moon & I, Yomogi, and Ziying presented original compositions, which were admirable. Yomogi stood out, with a quiet stage presence and a demand for more focused listening. The performances fluctuated from electronic pop to mellow melodic tunes, which occasionally pleasantly surprised me. However, the entire show was in English, while the introductions were made in French, leaving me searching for even a faint trace of something that felt somewhat Asian.

Festival Accès Asie positions itself as celebrating thirty-odd years of Asian heritage in Montreal. The artists were certainly of Asian heritage, but nothing in the music, lyrics, or performances overall suggested any significant relationship to that heritage. Which makes me wonder: are content and artist the same thing? Gathering Asian artists in a room is a starting point, but it’s not enough to make a show Asian if the content isn't even remotely influenced by the culture. Western pop structures and English lyrics could have come from any indie showcase in this city. I’m not criticizing the artists; contemporary Asian performance art could be equally genre-fluid, but the cringe is that this particular event didn't seem curious about any of it.

Of course, this is Montreal, where an Asian artist performing in English and being introduced in French is its own kind of cultural subtext. You may interpret that however you may, depending on where you come from. But Quebec's language politics has a way of showing up uninvited, and watching it play out at a community arts event was, at the very least, interesting.

The overall pacing of the show certainly didn’t hold my interest, though. The curated portion ran ninety minutes before the actual open mic was supposed to begin, and I didn't stay to witness the talent of some courageous spectators. That brings me to the real question: what does "open mic" mean when the open part gets buried under an hour and a half of planned programming? If spontaneity and participation are the point, they probably shouldn't arrive after an audience has been sitting for ninety minutes. Move the open mic earlier, that's the event I'd have stayed for.

Oh, and the annoying phones, which were apparently encouraged. I get the logic: social reach and community visibility are important. But something is deflating about watching a roomful of people experience live art on a tiny screen, especially when professional videographers are already documenting the show. At some point, the performance stops being for the people in the room and becomes an Instagram story, which defeats the purpose.

Open Mic Asiatique has hosted over 100 artists across 19 editions to date. They definitely seem to be building something real. Maybe this particular event just wasn't for me. The vibe was warm, the talent was commendable, and the community clearly found something meaningful in the gathering. I just wanted the event to grapple with its own premise. Asian Heritage Month is a prompt, not a backdrop. The question is whether gathering Asian artists in a room is enough, or whether that's just the beginning of the conversation.

Open Mic Asiatique was presented at The Maison de la culture de Parc-Extension on May 9, 2026, by Festival Accès Asie. For upcoming editions and programming, visit accesasie.com.