Our languages, our roots: why we sing in multiple voices

One voice, many houses

There are artists who only have one language, like only one home.
For us, that’s not possible.

Our voice inhabits several places at once.
She grew up speaking French, was raised speaking Ewondo, opened herself up to other horizons in Yoruba, Haitian Creole, English, Spanish… and continues to reach out to other languages as well.

Each language is a room in the house.
We don’t walk the same way there, we don’t breathe the same way there, we don’t love with the same gestures.
But all these rooms make up our home.

When you hear a song by ELIK TARA GROUP, you are actually hearing several houses responding to each other.

French: the open window

French is often our window onto the world.

It is the language in which we explain, in which we tell things precisely.
She knows how to describe the details of daily life, the rituals, the habits, the small cracks that appear in everyday life.
In a song like “Je cherche encore mes mots” (I’m still looking for my words), French allows us to name what slips away, what changes, what gets lost a little, with modesty but without detour.

It is also the language that connects several of our worlds:
African roots, paths in Canada, people who listen to us from very different countries but who, thanks to this language, understand the sentences, the nuances, the stories.

For us, French is the language that says:
“Come, I’ll gently explain what’s going on in my heart.”

The Ewondo: the deepest chamber

If French is the window, Ewondo is the deepest room of the house.

It is a language of roots, of memory, of family.
She is the one who carries the prayers of childhood, the whispered blessings, the secrets passed down in the corner of the house, the laughter that needs no translation.

When we switch to Ewondo in a song, something changes:
The heart descends a little lower, the voice becomes more intimate, closer to the earth.
We no longer speak only “to” someone, we speak “with” all those who came before us.

Ewondo is the language that says:
“I haven’t forgotten where I come from. Even if I travel, even if I change countries, my roots still speak.”

Other languages: bridges built to others

Around these two pillars, other languages have come knocking at our door.

• Yoruba, with its musicality, its spiritual depth, its vibrations that call for memory, dance, prayer.

• Haitian Creole, with its tenderness, its strength, its ability to convey both the pain and the beauty of a people standing tall.

• English, which opens our songs to those for whom this language is the first refuge, and which allows us to travel to other stages, other waves.

• Spanish, which brings a different warmth, a way of expressing love, joy, nostalgia with new colors.

And then there are the languages we are still moving towards, such as Swahili, Wolof, and others that may come later.
They are already there, somewhere, in our dreams, in our desires for encounters.

Each language added is not a stylistic effect.
It’s another bridge built between us and someone who, somewhere, needs to hear a sentence in their own voice.

When an emotion chooses its language

Over time, we noticed one thing:
It’s not just us who choose the language of a song.
Often, it is emotion itself that decides.

• When the wound is very old, very deep-seated, it likes to return in the mother tongue. It is often Ewondo that takes the lead.

• When it comes to explaining, telling a story clearly, setting a scene, French readily lends itself to the task.

• When the spiritual dimension rises, when prayer surfaces, when praise or inner struggle becomes more intense, Yoruba or another West African language sometimes invites itself in, like a memory larger than our own.

• When the desire is to engage with a very wide audience, to launch a refrain that many will be able to sing, English or Spanish offer their colours.

• When the song touches on resilience, dignity, and light amidst hardship, Haitian Creole can come and contribute its strength.

Sometimes a song starts in one language and ends in another.
As if emotion, in unfolding, needed to change its clothes.

How we choose the language of a piece

In practice, the choice of language is rarely made based on a chart or a marketing plan.
It happens in the body, in the mouth, in the heart.

Often, it all starts with:

• a melody that arrives

• a word that comes to mind spontaneously

• a fragment of a sentence that slips out, without having decided which language to speak

We let that initial impulse come.
If the first sentence is in Ewondo, we respect it.
If the refrain is adopted in French, we welcome it.
If a bridge requires English to carry an opening, we open it.

Only then do we organize:
Perhaps the verse will remain in French.
The chorus will mix French and Ewondo.
A passage will be inserted in Yoruba or Creole.
and the ending will return to the original language, as if to gently close a circle.

Choosing a language, for us, is not about ticking a box.
It’s about listening to where the voice is coming from, and who it wants to talk to this time.

What this changes for the listener

One might think that not understanding everything is an obstacle.
For us, it’s often quite the opposite.

When you hear a language you don’t speak fluently:

• you listen differently

• You let yourself be guided by the timbre, the rhythm, the accents, the breathing

• Your heart sometimes understands before your head

Many people tell us:
“I don’t speak that language, but I felt what you meant.”
That’s exactly what we’re looking for.

In our songs, there are words that you will understand with your reason, and others that you will understand with your deep memory, even if you do not know the translation.
Languages are then like musical instruments: they play together, each with its own color, to convey the same emotion.

Tongues to heal cuts

We come from a world where borders have often separated peoples, cultures, and memories.
Languages have sometimes been used to cut, dominate, and divide.

With ELIK TARA GROUP, we want them to do the opposite.
May they become bridges, bandages, lights between different stories.

When we sing in Ewondo to an Afrobeat rhythm,
in French to a Caribbean-inspired tune
in Haitian Creole, based on a foundation from Africa,
in English or Spanish, set to harmonies that carry the memory of Cameroon,

We hope that something will be reconciled, even silently.
As if languages were also holding hands.

For you who read and listen

If you identify with several languages, several cultures, several affiliations, you are already a little bit of our family.
If you only have one but your heart is curious about others, you are just as welcome.

Our songs won’t always translate everything for you.
Sometimes they will leave you in the dark about a verse, an expression, a mysterious word.
But they will always offer you something:
a refrain to sing, an emotion to feel, a language to discover, a story to embrace.

Our languages are our roots, but they are also our wings.
They connect us to those who came before us, and they lead us to those we have not yet met.

By listening to our music, you enter this house with many rooms.
You don’t have to know everything.
All you have to do is push open the door, sit down for a moment, and let each language speak to the part of you that it recognizes.