There’s no live expiration date for The Used, who powered through their 25 year anniversary tour

The Used’s self-titled debut, released in 2002, was one of those records: a scrappy, volatile, beautifully unhinged collection that gave raw emotion a microphone and let chaos sing. On Saturday night, The Forum played host to night two of the band’s anniversary run, and as soon as the lights dropped, it was clear this wasn’t going to be a simple nostalgia trip—it was a full-blown resurrection.

The Used

Where: The Forum, Melbourne

The Forum, with its star-strewn ceiling and gothic curves, felt like the perfect cathedral for emo’s unruly gospel. Fans packed shoulder to shoulder, black eyeliner and wide smiles alike, buzzing with anticipation. A short, frenetic video montage spliced together old tour footage, early music videos, and grainy photos from the band’s formative years, igniting a roar of recognition from the crowd. Then, with the first wailing feedback of ‘Maybe Memories’, the room erupted—two decades vanished in a heartbeat.

Hearing The Used front to back was a visceral experience. ‘The Taste of Ink’ landed like a communal prayer, every voice in the room swelling to match Bert McCracken’s unbridled howl. ‘Blue and Yellow’ pulled things inward—gentle and heart-wrenching, a reminder of the band’s ability to turn vulnerability into anthems. And then there was ‘Buried Myself Alive’, dark and desperate yet impossibly cathartic, sending the pit into overdrive.

The band delivered each track with both precision and reckless abandon—guitarist Joey Bradford shredding through jagged riffs, bassist Jeph Howard’s lines pounding like a second heartbeat, and drummer Dan Whitesides locking it all into a storm.

If anyone could bottle Bert McCracken’s energy, it would power Melbourne for a week. Equal parts chaotic ringleader and vulnerable poet, he leaned hard into both extremes—shriek-screaming one moment, leading the crowd in soft sing-alongs the next. At times, he stopped to reflect on the record’s legacy, thanking fans for keeping it alive, but more often than not he simply urged everyone to lose themselves. The result was total surrender: a room of strangers united by sweat, tears, and lyrics screamed back with ragged devotion.

By the time ‘Pieces Mended’ wound its way to its jagged conclusion, there was a collective sense of release—like the album had exorcised itself through every voice in the room. No encore was needed. The Used had dug up their 2002 selves, handed them back to us raw and unfiltered, and walked off leaving the air thick with catharsis.

Night two of The Used’s Melbourne run wasn’t just a celebration of their self-titled debut—it was a reminder of why this band mattered then, and why they still matter now. For long-time fans, it was a homecoming; for newer ones, it was an initiation. For everyone inside The Forum, it was proof that some albums don’t age—they burn.