Ann O'aro loves everything related to the movement of the body, rhythms, and voice: “I come from martial arts and music, before choosing maloya to sing about intimate and taboo subjects.”
Her wild writing is imbued with broken languages or linguistic tics: a poetic outburst connected to island taboos and strong emotions, sexual violence, incest, and passionate love. As in “Kap Kap,” one of her songs written in the Creole of Réunion, her native island. A raw and biting fonnkér that describes the embrace of an incestuous father, who embraces the madness and violence of a criminal impulse in all its banal savagery: “Amoin, marmay, bonom, lo lou, tousala ansanm, mi mor pour rash aou in kri, kan mêm sa pal amour / Me the child, the man, the wolf, all at once, I die to tear a cry from you, with claws, with a tail, even if it’s not a cry of love.”
And Ann's song bursts forth, a song that dives into reality and is not afraid of shadows.