Bureau B present a reissue of Heldon’s Un Rêve Sans Conséquence Spéciale, originally released in 1976. Heldon’s Richard Pinhas has never been shy of pinpointing his influences while, at the same time, making music that is noticeably distinct from any of his designated sources. He has, for instance, made it clear that a significant font of inspiration was Robert Fripp’s guitar style and melding of rock music with cutting-edge electronics (especially in collaboration with Brian Eno). Indeed, Heldon’s fifth album, Un Rêve Sans Conséquence Spéciale, was named after a live bootleg of a King Crimson concert. Pinhas first met Fripp in 1974, and the pair became friends and have remained in contact ever since. Pinhas was even offered a deal with E.G. Records, the company that oversaw King Crimson alongside other successful groups like Roxy Music and ELP. “That was a dream,” says Pinhas. “But when you are 22, you are in a hurry. They asked me to wait one or two years before joining the team. I couldn’t wait two years!” Instead, Pinhas launched his own label, Disjuncta, which he later sold to purchase the Moog synthesizer that would make a huge difference to Heldon’s sound. Heldon’s output also drew from radical science fiction (Philip K. Dick, Norman Spinrad, etc.) as well as philosophy: the sleeve features a quote from Pierre Klossowski’s Nietzsche and the Vicious Circle (1969). Heldon never represented a mere facsimile of Pinhas’s musical touchstones: King Crimson, Jimi Hendrix, Miles Davis, or Frank Zappa. Heldon was always its own beast and by 1976 it was thriving and roaring like never before. More work was being completed in a proper studio, the Moog helped strengthen the sound and direction, and Pinhas’s rotating cast of collaborators was solidifying into something resembling a regular lineup, with François Auger on drums and Patrick Gauthier on synthesizers. The result was a darker, heavier, and more intense sound. The LP opens with the prog-gone-skronk onslaught of “Marie Virginie C”, sounding rather like Robert Fripp being sliced into bloody chunks in Thurston Moore’s basement. Auger is the star of “Elephanta”, in all its Moog-assisted polyrhythmic glory. On side two, “MVC II” offers six minutes of sinister dystopian squelch rock. It’s followed by “Toward The Red Line”, an epic piece conceivably serving to connect the dots between Hawkwind’s most freeform passages and the Detroit techno innovations of the coming decade.