The creative innovator, intellectual powerhouse, and social commentator extraordinaire Francis Bebey left this world almost a quarter of a century ago. His legacy, though, has only grown. The plugged-in styles Bebey revolutionized so many decades before the notion of electronic music became mainstream hold up today as perhaps even more powerful in contemporary discourses of global music.
Well before categories like folk fusion and Afrobeats, and—if we must—”ethnic electronica”, Bebey was making music that was at once traditional and future-facing, synthesized and acoustic: worldly music, in tune with both past and present, yet never nostalgic. Pointedly using indigenous instruments from his native Cameroon and other parts of West and Central Africa, and commenting broadly on colonial and post-colonial struggles, Bebey’s work was bold on every front when it was first created, and has lost none of its spark over time.
I was, accordingly, thrilled to learn that there was a new Bebey record on the way. Entitled Trésor Magnétique, it features a substantial 20 heretofore unreleased tracks, including a handful of alternate versions of existing recordings and a whole slew of music entering the public sphere for the first time, courtesy of Bebey’s family and a painstaking restoration crew.
The effort delivers. Trésor Magnétique is an exceptional mix of everything Bebey does best. His sharp wit shines through in “Dash, Bakshish and Matabish”, a song about bribery and corruption that still resonates in the age of cutthroat capitalism and the gig economy. There’s an evergreen charm to the sentiments of “Where Are You? I Love You”, a song driven by bass grooves and sparkling mbira.
Luscious instrumental “Ganvié” features soaring flute and mbira lines rippling in gorgeous stereo. In contrast, “L’Amour Malade Petit Français” is one of several pieces that prove Bebey’s pop chops. This one calls to mind rumba and disco; later, the guitars, synthesized horn sounds, and drum machines of “Funky Maringa” make for a cool makossa cut.
As is often the case with social commentary, some of it feels out of context, with one piece in particular requiring a moment of attention. “La Condition Masculine”, a song about the effect of foreign ideologies on Cameroonian society (and one that was a significant hit for Bebey back in 1975), appears here in English, and the lyrics are jarring. Bebey tells a story of escalating marital discord. An outsider’s narrative has convinced the wife of 17 years that women in Africa are unhappy with being unhappy. When she refuses to work, it makes him “unhappy” to the point that he beats her, a demonstration of the oppressed masculine condition to counter her claim of the oppressed feminine condition.
That is unquestionably a satirical piece. Its target is not women, but the colonists who frame their interference as liberation. The moral is not that women should be beaten, but that believing European ways are inherently better than existing local ways has the power to sow discord, to upend daily life. This, too, is a relevant message, and its presentation here is intended to capture attention.
Ultimately, that’s what Bebey excels at. His work is never timid, always compelling, always devoted to expressing his experience as an African in the context of a modern and interconnected world. Whether he’s courting controversy or laying down feel-good dance beats, he’s committed to his ideas, rejecting the notion of a separation between past, present, and future, as well as tradition and modernity, especially in the colonial contexts he witnessed firsthand. Trésor Magnétique is a treasure indeed, and Bebey’s presence is as strong and charismatic as a listener will ever find.