Back in 2002, four guys from Orem, Utah, unleashed something raw, relentless, and surprisingly vulnerable into the world—and 23 years later, The Used’s self-titled debut still hits like a punch to the chest.
Released on June 25, 2002, this record wasn’t just an introduction to the band—it was a scream from the void that found thousands of kids who felt just as broken, bruised, and confused. From the opening chaos of “Maybe Memories” to the unfiltered pain of “Blue and Yellow” and the full-throttle angst of “A Box Full of Sharp Objects,” The Used didn’t just flirt with emotion—they grabbed it by the throat and dragged it out kicking and screaming.
At the center of it all was Bert McCracken, whose voice swerved between melody and mayhem with zero warning. He didn’t sound like he was singing these songs—he sounded like he was surviving them. And that honesty, paired with the band’s chaotic blend of post-hardcore, screamo, and alt-rock, gave the album a lasting bite that’s kept it fresh even two decades later.
Produced by John Feldmann (Goldfinger), the album helped shape the sound of early 2000s emo and post-hardcore. It didn’t just open the door for The Used—it kicked it off its hinges. Within a year, they were playing Warped Tour, climbing the charts, and helping define a generation of eyeliner-clad misfits and scene kids.
Whether you remember burning this CD onto your iPod, scribbling the lyrics in the margins of your notebook, or screaming “Taste of Ink” at the top of your lungs on a long car ride, this album lives in a part of your brain you probably haven’t visited in a while—but it’s still there, scars and all.
Twenty-three years later, The Used’s debut hasn’t softened with age—it still bleeds, and that’s exactly why we still love it.
