In a wide, humming sky where colours bend and sounds gather like old friends, Blauer Montag unveils Himmelrausch, Here, homemade guitars pulse in long, droning lines, like electrical wires dreaming at night, while motorik rhythms march forward with calm determination. Analogue synthesizers and drum machines appear like strange machines discovered in the corner of a forgotten room — glowing, warm, and alive.
This new record was born by accident, the way the best things sometimes are. Picture a solar‑powered caravan standing alone in the Scottish Highlands, sunlight trickling in only when the clouds decide to drift aside. In this pocket of natural electricity, Himmelrausch quietly wrote itself, one beam of light at a time. The result is something solitary, purposeful, and a little bit haunted.
The story of Richard Montag begins in a living room filled with classical records, Irish rebel songs, and the unmistakable voice of Elvis. Then one day — like a plot twist — Tangerine Dream’s Zeit and Black Sabbath’s Sabbath Bloody Sabbath appear, pulling him into a deeper, stranger world of sound. He leaves Scotland in the 1980s, crossing borders to meet a penpal who shares a love for the seismic vibrations of Einstürzende Neubauten in occupied Germany. Later, London calls: he finds himself forming the Hair & Skin Trading Company with former members of Loop, collaborating with Snowpony, and weaving through the orbits of Chapterhouse, Wipers, and Ott.
Eventually, the city burns him out. The movie shifts. He returns to the Highlands — this time as a chalet maid, a sort of cosmic reset — before circling back to Glasgow. There, he forms Hearing Voices Movement with Gareth McNichol, and along the way receives an autism diagnosis and becomes a therapist. Life bends, refracts, and returns, just like sound.
Himmelrausch is the latest chapter in this looping, dreamlike journey. It hums. It shimmers. It breathes. And it waits for you to step inside.