MIRROR is a 12-member boy band formed in Hong Kong in 2018. I would venture to say Hong Kong society’s relationship with them over the past five years is like (to use an unavoidable pun) holding a mirror up to society— it reflects our initial pathos, then our ADHD-like consumerism and moving on over the years.
In this article, I have a conversation with Ariel (alias) who is a self-professed fan of Mirror, and we dive into her changing relationship with the group, the minutiae of being a fan, and what we learn about the psyche of Hong Kong society through looking at Mirror. The following opinions are Ariel’s own and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the author.
CC: When did you first get into Mirror?
Ariel: Like many others, I first became curious about them in early 2021, when a 21-year-old Keung To became the youngest-ever individual to gain the title of “My Favourite Male Singer” in Commercial Radio Hong Kong’s “Ultimate Song Chart Awards Presentation”. They were still quite new to the local pop music industry, and so it was rather unexpected that he’d win such a prestigious award—even Keung To himself was absolutely bewildered as he went on the stage. But despite his shock, he delivered a vocal performance that wasn’t half bad, which was particularly impressive to me: I must confess, at that time I had very little understanding about Mirror, and thought they were only a bunch of pretty faces that somehow managed to charm a small horde of fangirls into falling for them. The idea that they harboured any real talent at all was completely beyond my imagination.
Boy, how very wrong I was. A quick search revealed to me that the music they made was actually pretty good. One of my favourite songs was (and still is) Ian Chan’s “Whale Fall”, for which he wrote the music and lyrics himself. From there, I was hooked, and actively sought to learn more about them. This naturally brought me to ViuTV’s “Good Night Show - King Maker”, the reality talent show that first discovered the twelve members of Mirror in 2018.
Before becoming Mirror, the members were just normal people from ordinary backgrounds, who wanted to chase their dreams and become a star. On the TV show, they were presented as their raw and unembellished selves, while the audience would witness their struggles and triumphs, so there’s a sense that fans have been able to witness their growth since day zero. (Incidentally, this sentiment is echoed in their 2024 song “Day 0”.)
I think their shot to stardom coincided with several factors. The events of 2019 put many Hongkongers in a state of emotional low, then came COVID with travel bans and quarantine measures leaving people desperate for entertainment. In May 2021 when the pandemic was starting to ease up, Mirror held a series of six sold-out shows in KITEC’s Star Hall. Video clips of their electrifying performances circulated heavily on social media, propelled by the sentiment that despite all the hardships that Hong Kong had been through, we were still capable of producing a bunch of locally born and bred pop idols that we could be proud of. They were a symbol of hope, and were living proof that dreams still do come true.
CC: There’s a fascinating Wall Street Cn article that links the rise of idol groups with downturns in the economy in Japan and Korea (and solo artists in periods of economic growth) and, having felt it myself, I am inclined to believe this may be more than coincidental correlation. They also mentioned something similar to what you said– the idols were a source of “spiritual compensation for the public’s mental needs”.
For me personally, I don’t remember when Mirror first appeared on my radar, but I remember the growing love and hype around it, and was just too infectious not to join in the enthusiasm. I felt like we were in a vacuum of spent emotion, bleak and cathartic, and needed something to unite around, to transmute all that energy to a positive outlet, and Mirror came at the perfect time.
Ariel: Indeed. I discovered them at a time where it was difficult for me to have much reason to be happy, and they were an important source of entertainment and joy. I feel this may have been the case for many people as well. Their popularity culminated in July 2022 when they were scheduled to perform ten nights at the Hong Kong Coliseum—a very impressive feat for relative newcomers to the industry—the demand to see them live was so high that it had even been reported that people were reselling their tickets for upwards of $100,000.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck in the middle of the fourth show: a large hanging screen above the stage fell and injured two backup dancers, with ten thousand people witnessing this horrific scene. The series of concerts were forced to halt, and put a hard brake on their rising superstardom.
CC: I remember trying to avoid watching videos of the accident that were circulating online as it was quite triggering. Counseling hotline call rates shot up. And Mirror became sort of a “taboo” topic to bring up in casual conversation for a while just because it brought to mind the terrible accident.
Ariel: There was also a lot of unfair judgement towards Mirror. Many pointed fingers at them for the incident, when in fact it could have been any of them that was injured. After they returned to the limelight after a three-month hiatus, they were hated on for continuing with their careers. As much as I am heartbroken for those injured, especially Ah Mo whose limbs remain paralysed, and will never get over my anguish or forgive those who were responsible for this entirely preventable accident, we must all continue living our lives. I personally believe it is absurd to force Mirror to take the blame, when they were victims themselves.
CC: Making the situation worse by rubbing salt on those already traumatised on stage, scapegoating the most visible targets but not the actual source of the problem.
Ariel: Yes, exactly. Through court proceedings surrounding this incident, it has come to light that the hanging screens were much heavier than reported on paper—meaning the support for these equipment was severely inadequate, and some of the hardware used in the concert did not meet safety standards either.1
CC: How did fans and Mirror members get through this tragedy and continue to perform again?
Ariel: For me, I became more emotionally invested as I could see how the members cared for one another then—you can’t fake these things—and I genuinely began to become emotionally invested in them as people instead of just entertainment providers.
My feelings for Anson Lo in particular developed when he was the first to return to the stage in November 2022 in a joint concert with industry veteran Joyce Cheng. Along with many others in the audience, I was still heavily affected by the events that transpired during the previous few months. But through his professionalism and passion to perform—really, because he’d suffered emotional breakdowns during rehearsals, and was singing and dancing through bouts of severe stomach cramps while on stage—Anson Lo put on a spectacular show, and proved that we could get through the emotional trauma together and emerge more resilient than ever.
CC: I’m fascinated about the intricacies of the Mirror fandom. Do different members attract different types of fans?
Ariel: The twelve members are quite different, and I think I have noticed some notable characteristics for the fans of each of them. For example, Keung To has a relatively conservative, “son-like” image, so there’s a significant proportion of his fans who are older women—including many silver-haired grandmothers who would travel all the way to Asia-World Expo for concerts just to support him.
On the other hand, it seems a lot of younger girls—some in their pre-teens, even—would flock towards Edan and Jeremy, while more men might be drawn to Jer and Ian for their heavier focus on music. Of course it goes without saying that these are huge generalisations and there are many fans that don’t fit into these categories, but these are just some of my (entirely subjective and potentially inaccurate) observations.
CC: Though I have yet to enjoy it, I remember being so impressed by all tram rides being free on Keung To’s birthday. I remember thinking, ‘wow, that is the power of Mirror’.
Ariel: I’m glad! Keung To was probably the first to become the most widely known member, and there was even a phrase “姜濤不紅，天理不容” with roughly translates to “there’s no justice if Keung To isn’t popular”.
CC: How about you? Who is your favourite member?
Ariel: Haha, this question was bound to come up! Let me first make it clear that I appreciate all twelve of them, and started as a fan of Mirror as a group before anything else. But I’ve become especially partial to Anson Lo, not only because I admire how he maintains grace and kindness despite all the senseless hate he faces, but also that I find him relatable in how we both enjoy pretty (read: luxurious) things. It shouldn’t be a surprise that his fan base contains women in their 30s to 40s who have achieved a certain level of purchasing power—people who would happily splurge on beauty products and jewelry from the brands he’s a spokesperson for, and eagerly buy from ALLOVER, the label he founded himself.
Of course, it’s not all just about shiny things; for Anson Lo’s 29th birthday, freebies for the HK public courtesy of Anson Lo’s fan club included a free Star Ferry ride across Victoria Harbour, free ferris wheel rides and an Anson Lo-themed drone show over the harbourfront that evening.
CC: Being a fan certainly calls for a lot of dedication. Since you’ve been with them over these years, have you seen any changes in Hong Kong’s opinion of Mirror?
Ariel: Definitely. After the initial hype, I feel that Hong Kong’s attention towards them dwindled; firstly as pandemic restrictions lifted, people’s attention shifted elsewhere to occupy their time, to eating out, to traveling abroad again.
Musically as well, it became obvious that their abilities didn’t quite match up to their fame. There’s probably some well-founded jealousy involved too: many talented people who put in the hard work might never achieve the same level of popularity as Mirror.
Perhaps the lack of an established idol-training system (compared to, for example, Korea) is one reason. Another is that when they were most popular, they were too busy filming commercials to work on honing their musical craft; at one point they were even called 廣告從業員 “advertisement practitioners” because of the amount of commercials they were in. You literally could not walk through a subway station or turn on the TV during a commercial break and not see a few of their faces pop up.
CC: Personally, their imperfection is actually part of their charm for me. Prior to listening to Mirror, I listened to a lot of K-Pop, and have become tired of their factory-like regimental system of churning out idols that are “perfect” on stage. Mirror has their flaws and their quirks, relatable and human, and because of that I am almost protective of this flawed but charming home-grown talent.
Ariel: Yes, I’m actually very protective of them! During this past year especially, they’ve grown so much and it’s so rewarding to see. As individuals, all members have released at least one solo song by now, and all of them have headed major projects (for example, Alton and Frankie, who have been somewhat lesser known compared to the others, each starred in a stage play that was very well received). And as a group, after their world tour comprising 27 shows spanning across 9 different cities, they now deliver very solid live performances—vocal mishaps may still happen occasionally, but to a much lesser extent compared with how they were before.
CC: That’s great to know. Going a bit further, do you think Mirror has had an effect on Hong Kong’s wider pop culture?
Ariel: They’re widely credited for bringing back Cantopop. Listening rates of Cantopop (of Mirror and other Cantopop artists) skyrocketed as the idol group’s popularity rose to its peak in 2021 and 2022, as evidenced by Spotify data tracked by Wavezine HK. Subsequent seasons of the music talent show King Maker also created a lot of other stars apart from Mirror, including quite a few idol groups too. The girl groups Lolly Talk and Collar especially are rather popular, especially amongst male fans. With the rise of Mirror, a lot of local music-makers—many of whom collaborated with Mirror’s members—came to prominence as well, and all this feeds into the development of Hong Kong’s music scene.
In terms of movies, I don’t think I can recall the last time I’ve watched a locally made film in the ten years prior to Mirror’s debut. But since I’ve started supporting movies starring Mirror members, my radar naturally spreads, and by now watching Hong Kong-made films has become a habit for me.
CC: Now that you mention it, I’ve started to listen to Cantopop and watch Hong Kong movies again since Mirror came on the scene; I’m not sure whether it was a coincidence or not. To me Cantopop was the golden age of the eighties and early nineties, then there were artists such as Eason Chan and Joey Yung in the 2000s, then I didn’t really listen to Cantopop again until Mirror came along and the artists that released songs at the same time as Mirror. What do you think about the future of Mirror and Cantopop in general? Do you think their city-wide popularity is a one-off fluke?
Ariel: For Mirror, I was most worried about their technical abilities in the beginning, but they have shown such drastic improvement and I am confident that they will continue to amaze. But what’s disheartening is that they’ve garnered a lot of haters as well, for the previously mentioned reasons.
Notably, when Keung To received his latest “My Favourite Male Singer” and “My Favourite Song” awards again in Commercial Radio Hong Kong’s “Ultimate Song Chart Awards Presentation” on the first day of 2025, his first words were: “Oh no, I’m gonna get attacked again”, and proceeded to plead with those typing hateful comments on forums to 口下留情 i.e. “go easy on him”.
However, Mirror have shown themselves to be very resilient individuals, and their camaraderie is evident despite never-ending conflicts between their fans. I’m hopeful that they will be able to support each other through this difficult path, and prove themselves worthy of all that they’ve gained.
Although listening rates of Cantopop in Hong Kong have dropped after 20222 (30-40% in 2020, 50-70% in 2021, 60-70% in 2022, with a decline back to ~50% by the end of 2023) and the proportion of Hong Kong people listening to Korean, Japanese and Western music have increased to pre-pandemic levels, it is at least fair to say that Cantopop has undergone a revival. With Mirror turning their heads to the international market with some English-only songs, and garnering a small amount of fans in other countries—there was a Japanese lady who travelled to attend Tiger’s fan meeting here in Hong Kong several months ago, and she doesn’t even speak Cantonese—who knows? Maybe a decade or so down the line, Cantopop could become the new K-pop.
CC: Though it sounds like a pipe dream, I can’t deny that Cantonese music and cinema today would be different if Mirror hadn’t been around. Finally, how is life as a fangirl?
Ariel: Busy, stressful, and it makes me poor—but it’s also immensely rewarding. To be frank, there’s a lot of toxicity and pettiness that you have to sift through; online harassment and doxxing between fans isn’t uncommon either. Though I suppose the extreme voices are the most amplified ones on the internet, where people get a high from putting others down, thus getting a sense of self-worth from that. So personally I would maintain a certain distance between myself and the darker parts of the fandom, and focus on what’s important: Mirror themselves—the twelve of them, their music and work, their shows, and maybe even their own brands. As for all the surrounding drama—well, I haven’t got enough time for that!
CC: Thank you Ariel for taking the time to share your thoughts and experiences!
Related articles: https://thewitnesshk.com/tag/mirror/
This is such a great interview, CC (although I was initially distracted by a baseless suspicion that Ariel might be Lorrie).
It’s really cool to see homegrown superstars embrace, and be embraced by, where they come from. Particularly at a point in history where they are sorely needed. I’ve heard too many kpop choruses that are in English or are just nonsense syllables so that everyone can sing along, globalised to the point that they are completely frictionless and forgettable.