More than 100 people have stepped onto the stage at Manarat Al Saadiyat in Abu Dhabi since this summer. Every one of them got there the same way: by showing up. Jalsa, an open-mic series whose name means “gathering or a sitting” in Arabic, has drawn more than 2,000 attendees across four editions in four months. Entry is free, and performance slots go first-come, first-served.
Organisers use a white plastic chair onstage as their symbol. It marks a place where anyone can take a seat, use the microphone and be seen.
Who Gets a Stage
The series grew out of a car ride between friends Hamad Al Shamsi, Abdullah Al Shamsi and Preston Dcosta. They later founded Harmony Abu Dhabi, the company behind Jalsa. Hamad, an NYUAD alumnus, works as a master of ceremonies and is passionate about storytelling. Preston is a pianist, drummer and sound engineer. Abdullah performs as NotSoHuman. He began by posting song covers on social media and released his debut single, “Love it Up,” in 2023.
The gap they wanted to fill was practical. Abu Dhabi has a fast-growing arts and culture scene, The National reported, but fewer grassroots communities for local creatives. “If we wanted to perform in an open mic, we had to go from Abu Dhabi to Dubai,” Preston said. “There was nothing home-grown in Abu Dhabi. So we decided to start something on our own.”
“We want people to be able to shine, to find a platform in Abu Dhabi,” Hamad told The National. “There is so much Abu Dhabi has to offer, and we’re just a drop in the ocean.”
The lineup has been broad. “We have people performing for the very first time,” Hamad said. “We have a performer who is three years old.” He added that performers come “from Ghana to the UAE to South Africa to Korea to Russia, it goes all around.” Abdullah described the slots as “diverse and allocated on a first-come, first-served basis.”
Four Chapters, One Theme
The team organised the four events as “chapters” inspired by parts of the UAE’s story: The Majlis, The Desert, The Sea and The Stars. The first drew on the welcoming spirit of the traditional Emirati majlis. The second explored the resilience needed to survive in the harshest times. The third focused on the sea and the UAE’s connections with the wider world. The final chapter, held last week, used stars that once guided journeys across desert and sea as symbols of dreams and aspirations.
More than 25 volunteers supported the events as part of the production team. Aysha, an attendee, said the crowd itself stood out. “I love seeing the community coming together. I love the initiative of the young coming in.”
For Lavalina, a singer and bassist, the appeal reaches beyond a single night onstage. Jalsa, she said, “gives a stepping stone to continuing your journey. And being able to pursue your dreams as a career, not just as a vocation or as a hobby.”
Money and Principle
Jalsa remains an out-of-pocket initiative. Its main revenue comes from a small baqala selling branded merchandise and local snacks. The team hopes to secure funding to expand the community and support more talent in Abu Dhabi across creative fields beyond music.
On one point, they say, there’s no room for compromise. “We are against the idea of artists having to pay,” Preston said. “We will never make the open mic a paid event because the artists have spent so much time, so much effort refining their art form.”
Why This Matters: Who gets a microphone, and at what cost, shapes whose voices a city hears. Jalsa’s organisers say performers in Abu Dhabi once had to travel to Dubai to find an open mic. Their answer was a free, first-come, first-served stage where first-timers, a three-year-old and performers from Ghana, South Africa, Korea, Russia and the UAE share the same chair. The model depends on volunteers and merchandise sales rather than ticket fees, leaving its future tied to funding the team is still seeking. From a human-centered view, the story shows how communities can build open access to public expression, and how fragile such efforts are without lasting support.