Amplifier
Insider

It was a revelation. The kind that can strike you anywhere. On the subway, as an amber dessert wine flows over your tongue, while you're sitting on the toilet. I set off on a nostalgic note, because Insider is not the evolved clone of a debut rock album by superheroes. The self-titled 2003 Amplifier was Superman ascending to the sky. He looked down on the earth from above and came back like a supernova.
Insider still hits you in the face like a rhinoceros, but perhaps its greater darkness is the cerebral fruit that makes it less shocking. But the echoes of a cosmic apocalyptic chill are there. And they are not crumbs.

Amplifier's debut was explosive, everything burst at once, one song after another. The forward button didn't exist. A single hour-long song.
For Insider, alas, we must separate the good from the less good. The crust and the core, the best parts. Gustav’s Arrival opens decisively, with Matt Brobin's drums cannibalizing the breath. Step number two. O Fortuna. Here, the seriousness continues. Balamir grabs the high tension cables and starts to thrash them. He enjoys it as the sound electrons swell your arteries. Then emptiness. A sudden antigravitational discomfort. Like when pressure jolts take your stomach in an airplane. Hold on. Strange Seas Of Thought brings us back to the epic of star wars. "Is anybody out there?". All around you is just a dark sea of stars. F**k. May the force be with us, because there's emptiness again. Up to Hymn Of The Aten and Map Of An Imaginary Place. The hard shell of Amplifier. Made of kerosene riffs and stormy wave drums.