There’s a spell woven into “Ecstasy in Space,” the latest release from Blue Foundation, which serves as the third single from their forthcoming album Close to the Knife, out April 18th. It’s a track that doesn’t just play — it envelops. Dreamy, shoegazey, and soaked in the thrill of abandon, the song pulses with ethereal textures and emotional urgency.
The music video, premiering today on 1883, is spearheaded by director Hannah Bertram and is a snapshot into a trance-like descent into the heart of Copenhagen’s underground pulse. With each shot laced in texture and a sense of something slipping away, the film unspools like a memory you’re not quite sure is real. Bertram leads us through a kinetic world where young bodies sway, collide, and dissolve into strobes of color and sound. Inside the cavernous belly of an illicit warehouse party, time untethers itself. We’re not watching the night unfold—we’re immersed in it, feeling the heartbeat of a generation that chases the moment before it fades.
“I’ve known these youngsters since they were kids, watched them grow up in the skateboard scenes of Copenhagen and Malmö,” explains Tobias Wilner, the band’s lead singer. “This video isn’t just a story from A to B—it’s life. A fragment of reality. Fleeting moments. Youth and freedom. A visual poem.” Crafted by Bertram and Tobias Wilner, who split duties on cinematography and editing, the film is more than a music video — it’s a reverie. Every frame hums with the haunting elegance of Blue Foundation’s sound, echoing the emotional undertow of what it means to feel everything, all at once.
As sunlight creeps across the skyline, “Ecstasy in Space” shifts its tempo. The streets empty. The silence after the storm arrives not with finality but with a soft sigh. It’s here, in the delicate hush between night and morning, that the film reveals its soul — those intimate afterglows where the high recedes, but the beauty lingers. The cast — Smila Alsbirk, Vanda Kilo, Miette Amorini, Vilma Stål, Heitor da Silva, and others — don’t perform so much as exist, lending a raw, unfiltered honesty to the screen. Their presence is electric, ephemeral, and achingly real. “Ecstasy in Space” doesn’t ask to be understood—it invites you to feel. And when it ends, it lingers like the ghost of a perfect night.
With “Ecstasy in Space,” Blue Foundation offers an invitation: press play, and let yourself drift.
