When we talk about representation in music, we often use the word "visibility." To be able to see someone who looks like you is to open your mind to a world of possibilities, to know that there is a space for you to belong. But music challenges a whole other sense: sound.

Musicians incorporate their identities into their music in various ways: lyrically, visually, and sonically. Last year, when I wrote about Asian representation, specifically, I noted that while "genres like jazz, rock and R&B were pioneered by Black artists — and white people still take up the most space in every aspect of the music industry, from musicians to label executives — there are no Asian roots in North American music." Without a genre that feels like it belongs to Asian diasporas, artists have the freedom to explore different sounds, but are also faced with the dilemma of how to embrace both sides of their identity. It often leads to the common conflict of not feeling Asian or Canadian enough.

It may not be an inherent duty to display one's heritage in one's music, but the musicians interviewed below have all found ways of addressing their Asianness, whether that's using native instruments, performing in their mother tongue, or infusing historical sounds, time signatures and keys. Some use their music as a form of self education; others use it as a way to educate their listeners. And for almost all of them, it's helped them connect to their cultures in profound ways that, at its pinnacle, can provide healing and hope.

The sound of Asian–Canadian music is varied, and perhaps that is its key identifier: a world of possibilities where no two artists have to sound alike, and where everyone is thriving as long as they're approaching their art with authenticity.

Scroll down to hear the many ways Asian–Canadian musicians are incorporating their heritage into their music right now.

Tesher is quick to note that what he's doing in his music — mixing hip-hop elements with Bollywood sounds — isn't an original idea that he came up with. The Regina rapper, born Hitesh Sharma, grew up experiencing this culture clash through bootleg CDs and tapes of rap remixed with Indian music. "They would be all over the place," he says, "and I would be like, 'I want to make one of those, too,' because I knew I could do it better."

As Tesher's music began to take shape, he says his South Asian identity naturally made its way into his work, not just through the mashup of sounds, but also lyrically. His two biggest singles to date, "Young Shahrukh" and the TikTok smash "Jalebi Baby," reference an iconic Hindi actor and a beloved snack, respectively. In some ways, this follows a formula that Sharma has noticed in hip hop since its inception: "The reason every successful rapper has made it is because they tell the story from their perspective…. For me, my life experience is my South Asian identity and also my Canadian identity, so a lot of that's going to affect the production, the lyrics, my wordplay, references — it's going to seep into everything because that's who I am."

Sharma says his music, which has thus far leaned into upbeat and celebratory anthems that highlight the beauty and uniqueness of being Indian, is meant to be unapologetic. He sees it as his responsibility to be an advocate for his culture: "I want kids to see me and be like, 'This is sick. I should be more open about who I am.' I'm always thinking about the 10-year-old version of myself when I'm working on my music."

Whitehorse-based musician Erica Dee Mah is a multi-instrumentalist, but for her fourth studio album, this year's The Sargasso Season, she picked up something new: the guzheng. Essentially a Chinese plucked zither, Mah discovered the guzheng while visiting a friend's house where she noticed the instrument sitting in the corner collecting dust. What followed was years of research, studying and finally getting a real opportunity to delve deeper into the Chinese side of her family. (Mah is mixed race; her father's side of the family immigrated from China to Canada during B.C.'s Gold Mountain era.) While her siblings travelled to China and took language classes, Mah says "music is my way of knowing the world," and that the journey of learning the guzheng "is like travelling through this country, and through time."

Lyrically, Mah wanted to approach her music through the lens of "if my ancestors had this instrument with them at the turn of the century, what would they write about?" She drew a lot from a set of memoirs her grandfather wrote, about arriving to the country by boat and living through hard times, but also becoming an entrepreneur who helped with the construction of the railway — "just really rich, amazing stories," she describes.

But The Sargasso Season actually began taking shape a decade ago, and Mah shelved it, partially for fear of her listeners not understanding the project. It wasn't until the pandemic hit that Mah thought, "I should just finish this," as a response to the rise of anti-Asian hate crimes she witnessed in the news. As a mixed-race person, Mah struggled for a while with imposter syndrome and wondering if she was the right person to tell these stories, but in light of such horrific incidents, a fire and passion was ignited: "These stories are part of a history that's important to me, and important to my family. I wanted to write these songs. I wanted to make it public."

"I'm curious about traditional Asian music, but in a similar way that I'm curious about a lot of other things," muses composer Kevin Lau. "During my education, I did sometimes feel like there was an expectation that I draw from my cultural background. It's true that I'm interested in exploring this aspect of my identity further, but I prefer to come to it on my own terms, rather than having it imposed from the outside."

Born in Hong Kong, Lau moved to Toronto when he was seven. "It was actually my father who was my bridge into the European classical world, because that's the music that he loved," he explains. "My grandfather, whom I never met, played traditional Chinese instruments such as the erhu."

Lau first encountered Asian composers via film and video games — people like Joe Hisaishi and Nobuo Uematsu. "Their work fuelled my imagination, but I certainly wasn't seeking them out because of their cultural identity. I was drawn to their music because I enjoyed it and found it meaningful."

For many years, Lau wasn't actively looking to make a connection between his music and his Asian heritage. "Now, what has happened — and it's not necessarily that I suddenly discovered my roots — is that sometimes I've been collaborating with people who are interested in that, and that has allowed me to see through their eyes," he says. The first instance of this was his 2009 piece Voyage to the East, a look toward the East from a Western perspective. "I delighted in the premise of a composer of Eastern descent writing from a Western lens about the East."

More recently, Lau got the opportunity to write a piece for erhu and orchestra. "It was a magical experience. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel some kind of attachment to the erhu, beyond just a simple intellectual curiosity."

He's currently working on Kimiko's Pearl, a ballet score for Bravo Niagara about the Japanese–Canadian internment during the Second World War. "I'm not an expert in Japanese music by any means, but this was a project that required, out of sheer musical and artistic responsibility, a deeper dive into some of these traditions," he says.

While Montreal band Teke::Teke's origins trace back to being a cover band performing songs by Japanese guitar legend Takeshi Terauchi, member Serge Nakauchi Pelletier's journey to his Japanese heritage began a bit before the band started. Growing up the son of a Japanese mother and a French–Canadian father, Pelletier admits that he initially leaned into his French–Canadian background partially due to the lack of Asian representation he saw in Quebec. "But when [my dad] passed away," he notes, "I got a lot closer to my mom and I discovered my Japanese roots."

Teke::Teke doesn't identify as solely a Japanese or Japanese-inspired band — their sound is a much more complicated melting pot of surf rock, psych-rock, garage, pop and more — but several of its members' cultures have naturally seeped into their art. Of course, singer Maya Kuroki sings all the band's songs in Japanese, but Pelletier and Kuroki note that Latin, bossa nova and Brazilian influences have also contributed to the band's sonic identity. Ultimately, the band wants to be known as a Montreal act over anything else.

But it's because of the small Japanese community in Montreal that many of Teke::Teke's members first found each other, and it only took a couple of shows before they all realized they had something special going on. "It happened really fast," Pelletier says, of Teke::Teke's transformation from being a cover band to writing original songs. "We didn't want to just be a retro band; it was more exciting for us to take that, move forward and create something new."

Pantayo, the Toronto queer Filipinx group whose debut album was shortlisted for the 2020 Polaris Music Prize, describe themselves as a collective instead of a band. "Pantayo's foundation is education and workshopping, and learning more about kulintang music and its surrounding culture," says Eirene Cloma, a member who moved to Toronto from B.C. in 2014 and joined the band after its formation.

While some of its members had preliminary knowledge of kulintang music going into the group — the Philippines gong-chime art form — others like Joanna Delos Reyes credit Pantayo for introducing them to the instrument and sound. (The band notes that even in the Philippines, kulintang isn't that popular compared to the mainstream American music that saturates its airwaves.)

But without any real precedent for a kulintang group like Pantayo in Toronto — one that combines kulintang elements with pop, R&B and punk — the group (rounded out by members Michelle Cruz, Kat and Katrina Estacio) treated this as a freedom rather than a limitation. "We just started playing shows, saying yes and being open-minded," Cloma explains. Reyes adds, "What I love about Pantayo is that we get invited to play bar shows, but we'll also be invited to Queen's University to present kulintang music and its history, and do workshops. There's so much that Pantayo does; we do so many things that translate to so many different avenues. So that's how we've made a space for ourselves in the music scene, whether it's in more academic spaces or just rockin' in a bar."