If you’re ever winding down the back roads of the Berkshires and cross paths with a bearded man in an antique car, don’t be surprised if it turns out to be Grammy-winning songsmith Ray LaMontagne.

“I restored a ’64 Triumph over the winter and the spring and just got that on the road,” LaMontagne says from the restored 1830 farmhouse that he shares with his wife and sons in Ashfield. “I rebuilt an old Model A around last Thanksgiving and Christmas and got that baby cooking. It’s an old rattle-trap, but it’s fun.”

Indeed, the 43-year-old singer’s more likely to tinker with autos than songs for lengthy stretches. “I think of the creative side of myself as like the child part of me,” LaMontagne says. “When I get off [tour], I’m done. I don’t even pick up the guitar unless that playful side of me says,  ‘I want to play.’ ”

That childlike side crossed into psychedelia for the folk-rocker’s sun-kissed 2014 pop outing, Supernova (produced by the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach), and this year’s darker, atmospheric follow-up, Ouroboros. He recorded that March release with musicians convened by co-producer Jim James of My Morning Jacket in his studio in Louisville, Kentucky. The two met while LaMontagne was supporting his 2004 debut, Trouble, “with just me and my guitar and my harmonicas in a rental car.”

Named after an ancient symbol that depicts a serpent eating its own tail, Ouroboros particularly evokes Pink Floyd, down to LaMontagne’s hushed vocals and sparse electric leads that echo that band’s David Gilmour. The New Hampshire native says he grew up listening to Floyd, Led Zeppelin, the Zombies and the Kinks as well as Ray Charles, Nina Simone and Van Morrison. Yet he claims no intention behind his shift into spacey rock.

“Those are the melodies and sounds that are coming to me,” LaMontagne says. “All that music that you take in when you’re learning about music and what turns you on and what connects you, all that stuff just becomes part of your DNA. If you’re supposed to be doing it, your own voice becomes part of that mixture.”

For LaMontagne, it’s a process of faith and trust, letting songs practically unfold on their own. “I’ve learned to be a lot more hands-off,” he says, and that involves the subconscious. “When you’re driving across the country by yourself and you spend long days driving, at a certain point, even when you’re dreaming, you’re dreaming about driving,” he says, adding of songwriting, “Your subconscious is so open that even when you’re trying to sleep, you’re thinking about the songs.”

Ouroboros, in fact, virtually came to him in a dream—intact, as a concept of one song in two parts (though he later split it into eight tracks for the ease of listeners). “I woke up early with a splitting headache, but my subconscious was going full-steam,” LaMontagne says. “I saw how [the album] all fit together.”

That includes a first part centered by the hazy riffs of “Hey, No Pressure” and “The Changing Man,” where he says, “You feel very disconnected,” while the impressionistic album’s second half offers “the reverse, of going back to a place that’s grounded.”

He found such a place in Ashfield, where he’s lived for eight years. “The longest I’ve lived anywhere in my life,” says LaMontagne, who was working in a Maine shoe factory when he heard Stephen Still’s “Treetop Flyer” on the radio, sparking an epiphany to engage with music. But he’s happier avoiding the celebrity trappings of the business. “It turns me off,” he says. “It just doesn’t hold anything for me.”

He won’t be spending time in the Berkshires this summer though, as he’ll be on tour, hitting Blue Hills Bank Pavilion on June 25-26. He’s doing solo acoustic sets, then Ouroboros in its entirety and other material with My Morning Jacket as his backing band—minus James, though perhaps he’ll join them for a July 22 date at the Newport Folk Festival, where James serves on a board of advisers.

“I love this art form,” LaMontagne says. “Wherever it takes me, I’m open to that.”

Ray LaMontagne plays Blue Hills Bank Pavilion on June 25-26.