
Thirty years is the kind of milestone that invites you to look backward. For Honey Jam, it was also an opportunity to figure out where to go next.
After celebrating three decades of championing emerging female and gender-diverse artists in 2025, the Toronto-born artist-development program is entering its next chapter with its sights set firmly beyond the city that raised it. On August 20, Honey Jam will take over TD Music Hall with a new class of artists drawn from five provinces and an unusually broad spectrum of sounds — a coast-to-coast snapshot of what Canada’s next generation of musicians actually sounds like.
For Honey Jam founder Ebonnie Rowe, that constant turnover is precisely what has allowed the program to remain relevant more than three decades after it began.
“Exactly that — the discovery of new talent and watching them grow through the process,” Rowe tells RANGE when asked what continues to excite her. Just as rewarding are the “full circle moments” that come later, when former participants return to volunteer, coach, mentor and teach the artists following behind them.
That cycle has produced some remarkable results. Since launching in 1995, Honey Jam has become an early proving ground for Canadian artists including Nelly Furtado, Melanie Fiona, Jully Black, Haviah Mighty and LU KALA. But the names already written into Honey Jam history aren’t necessarily the point in 2026. The excitement is in wondering who might be next.
This year’s answer is particularly difficult to predict. “I think it’s one of the more eclectic mixes we’ve had in a while,” Rowe says of the 2026 cohort.
That might be an understatement. The artists converging on Toronto this year stretch from Vancouver to Halifax and move freely between R&B, neo-soul, jazz, pop, indie-folk, country, alt-rock, punk, hip-hop and EDM, alongside music informed by sounds from around the world.
The lineup includes Vancouver’s AHSIA, Alberta’s Evie Marsten, Montreal’s POSIC, Nova Scotia artists Oh Alice and Freya Milliken, Ottawa’s mars aspen and Afro-Indigenous artist AIYANA, alongside a sizeable contingent from Toronto and elsewhere in Ontario. Each earned their place through Honey Jam’s national audition process, and on August 20 they’ll perform with a live band in front of an audience that may be encountering them for the first time.
For a program so closely associated with Toronto, that widening geographic reach feels significant. Honey Jam’s next era is increasingly national — not simply in reputation, but in who gets invited into the room.
And that room matters. The annual concert remains Honey Jam’s most visible public-facing event, but the performance is only one piece of an infrastructure built around artists at an especially vulnerable point in their careers. Throughout the year, participants have access to mentorship, vocal coaching, songwriting camps, workshops and industry education. They can learn about management, publishing, sync and the rapidly changing implications of AI — practical knowledge for navigating a business that can be notoriously difficult to enter.
Rowe, however, doesn’t believe information is Honey Jam’s most important offering.

“What I think is unique that we offer is a sense of belonging, safety, trust, community that lasts a lifetime,” she says. “We actually really, truly, genuinely care about their wellbeing, their future.”
“There are so many sharks out there with nefarious motives,” she adds, “so it’s extremely valuable to have that comfort and support of a group who wants you to win.”
It’s an ethos that helps explain Honey Jam’s longevity. The music industry of 2026 barely resembles the one the program entered in 1995, but the need for artists to find people they can trust — and peers with whom they can build community — hasn’t disappeared.
Neither has the thrill of catching an artist before everybody else does.
Rowe remembers Nelly Furtado arriving at Honey Jam in 1997, when the organization itself was still “young and figuring out what this Honey Jam thing was going to be.” Furtado would become a pivotal figure in its history: her eventual international success dramatically raised the program’s profile, while Furtado has continued to acknowledge the role Honey Jam played early in her development.
Sometimes, Rowe says, that potential is apparent almost immediately.
Haviah Mighty had it from the moment she stepped onto the audition stage. “Her energy was electric,” Rowe recalls. “She’s so tiny but her talent is massive and fills the room.” Furtado had a similar magnetism: “The room fell silent once she started singing.”
But three decades of watching artists develop has also taught Rowe not to put too much stock in first impressions. “There are artists where it’s a slow burn,” she says, “and long after the show they blossom.”
That unpredictability might be the most compelling reason to pay attention to Honey Jam in 2026. A 30-year legacy gives the organization credibility, but legacy alone can’t keep a music institution alive. New artists can.
By bringing musicians from across the country into the same space — different cities, different communities, different genres and different ideas about what a Canadian artist can sound like — Honey Jam is using the foundation of its first three decades to build something larger. The alumni provide the history; every incoming class gets the chance to complicate it.
On August 20, those artists will share the TD Music Hall stage for one night, hosted by CBC’s Angeline Tetteh-Wayoe. Some may arrive with the kind of electricity Rowe recognizes immediately. Others might take years before their Honey Jam appearance looks, in retrospect, like the beginning of something much bigger.
Either way, Rowe’s hope for the audience is refreshingly uncomplicated.
“With every showcase we want them to have had a beautiful musical experience and to feel a connection to the performances,” she says, “for it to have evoked emotion and joy.”
After 30 years, Honey Jam has plenty of reasons to celebrate its past. But the most interesting thing about its 2026 class is that nobody knows what comes next.

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