Every day, I sift through the hundreds of tracks that bombard my inbox. On a biweekly basis, I tell you about the two artists whose music most impressed me. This time, it's the late Cameroonian electronic-music innovator Francis Bebey, who has a fantastic new archival comp out, and Seattle synth duo Ambient Sundays, whose name hints at their aim to chill you the eff out.

Francis Bebey, “Forest Nativity (extended version)” (Africa Seven)
Most people in the West learned about the late Cameroonian musician Francis Bebey through excellent collections such as African Electronic Music 1975-1982 and Psychedelic Zanzu 1982-1984, released by the French label Born Bad. A segment of the population also may have discovered him via mid indie rockers Arcade Fire's "Everything Now," on which Patrick Bebey played the flute motif from his father's supremely infectious "The Coffee Cola Song." (Good luck finding affordable original copies of Francis's studio LPs in the US. However, many of them are on streaming platforms.)

Bebey (1929-2001) augmented his warm, conversational vocals in Duala, French, and English with kalimba, percussion, flute, and guitar; on the latter he was influenced by Spanish classical master Andrés Segovia. The pervasive vibe on these records is low-key, fluid, and seductive. The songs are sparsely constructed and slyly inviting, a subtle combination of organic and electronic elements. Especially on Psychedelic Zanzu, the sound is slinky and chill, and if you're into tantric sex, you could find a worse way to soundtrack that activity than this LP. 

The new Trésor Magnetique comp gathers 20 "unreleased tracks, alternate versions, archival recordings, and neglected gems from Bebey’s legendary vault." I'm a fan of the aforementioned collections, but Trésor Magnetique might even surpass those in quality and consistency—remarkable for an odds-and-ends release. 

One of the most prominent sounds in Bebey's wonderful songs is the kalimba (aka thumb piano), which produces resonant metallic tones that are as spine-tingling as those generated by the vibraphone. The kalimba inevitably makes me think of gently flowing water and the concomitant calmness that springs from it. Case in point is "Forest Nativity (extended version)." Its undulating kalimba and forlornly beautiful flute, embellished by understatedly soulful backing vocals, is trés hypnotique. Yet it could easily be retrofitted into an experimental techno banger. In a sagacious voice, Bebey recites, "Life is good, you'll see / Come into the world, my child." Those were different times...      

"Ganvié" is another proto-experimental-techno banger with keening flute and resonantly clanking kalimba. "Le Grand Soleil De Dieu" sashays in a nonchalantly funky manner, with a stately synth melody for which OMD would kill. I can imagine this cut animating legendary cosmic-disco DJ Daniele Baldelli's '70s sets. "Agatha (alternative version)" boasts an incredible corkscrewing bassline by Jean-Claude Ebongue that anchors an ebullient funk jam, while the care-free pop-funk "L'Amour Malade Petit Francais" sways like a tropical Serge Gainsbourg joint. "Funky Maringa" is not quite on the explosive level of funkiness of fellow Cameroonian Manu Dibango, but it does have a sassily bumping groove and celebratory air. 

If sociopolitical lyrics matter to you, you'll revel in majestic synth- and drum-machine-powered slow-roller "La Condition Masculine (English version)," which spoofs patriarchal attitudes, and "Dash, Baksheesh & Matabish," a sweet denunciation of corruption. Admittedly, Bebey was not a conventionally great singer, but he wrung poignancy, wit, and wisdom from his limited pipes.      

Francis Bebey's music isn't so much ahead of its time as it is outside of time altogether. With his unique combination of instruments and timbres, he was in his own bold lane, making specious categories such as "world music" seem glaringly insufficient. 

Ambient Sundays, "sunday morning" (We Coast Records)
Ambient Sundays' name is almost too on the nose—especially if you regularly listen to Alex Ruder's Pacific Notions show on KEXP, which airs on the alleged Lord's day. Maybe it's a coincidence that Ambient Sundays member Diana Ratsamee also DJs on that radio station (check out her Thursday night show, Eastern Echoes), but whatever the case, the Lao-American musician/producer and her bandmate and We Coast Records boss Anthony Warner have hit upon a winning sound with their self-titled debut album. 

Using all analog synthesizers (various Rolands, Oberheims, and Sequentials), Ambient Sundays get down to the important business of chilling out listeners with their emotive minimalism. "Lullaby sunrise" conjures a deeply moving and sonorous synthscape of chakra-opening tones à la New Age savant Steven Halpern and the late, great Ariel Kalma. "The final call of opportunity" presents a series of heartbreaking melody modules in the vein of Hans-Joachim Roedelius. 

The cutely titled "this is you as a baby" offers a gentle, amniotic tone bath that'll drop your pulse rate by 33 percent, while "yellow cabin by the sea" creates a feeling of poignant desolation, with tranquil tidal flow in the background. Diverging from the rest of the album, "a place to call home" features Ratsamee's delicate, mysterious vocals on this low-key, glowing orb of a track that made tears well up in your blogger's eyes. "Sunday morning" is not a Velvet Underground cover, but rather a sublime upswell of becalming, ice-blue synth textures.

With the Israel-Iran conflict escalating by the hour, the odds are stacked against any musicians attempting to soothe anxious doom-scrollers, but Ambient Sundays succeed with this glimmering soul balm.