25 years is a long time no matter what you are doing in life. Let alone be in a band. The relationships, the personalities, the dynamics are just some of the things that come into play. Add money, fame, in some cases substances and addiction, and all the odds are stacked against not just success, but longevity. The Used, have dispelled all of this. No ‘Flash In A Pan’. No ‘One Hit Wonder’. No ‘15 Minutes Of Fame’. Try 25 Years Of The Used, and you have got it right! And the band hit Australian shores with a plethora of sold out shows across the country, and we were lucky to celebrate with them over 3 shows at Brisbane’s iconic The Tivoli.
Before The Used stepped into the spotlight each night, it was Canberra’s own Hands Like Houses who shouldered the responsibility of firing up the room. Across all three evenings, they proved they weren’t just placeholders. They were scene-setters. With Josh Raven now leading the charge since 2023, the band feels revitalised. He commands attention with ease, pulling the crowd into their orbit even if many weren’t there specifically for them.
There’s a sharpness to their live sound that’s impossible to ignore. Every transition, every riff, every vocal soared with clarity, and by the midpoint of the set they had the audience locked in. Their take on Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” drew one of the loudest reactions of the night, yes, it’s a song that’s been reimagined countless times, my personal favourite is Corey Taylor, but Hands Like Houses put in a respectable version.
As we waited for the main attraction, each night the stage was covered in a white scrim, not just keeping the stage set secret but also to display the awesome intro projection for each night which showed highlights from that particular era of the band.
Night One: Self-Titled
Some records are cultural timestamps, and The Used’s debut sits proudly in that category. The Tivoli crowd on the opening night wasn’t made up of kids in eyeliner anymore. It was an audience who had grown older but never outgrown the songs. Within seconds of the opening riff of “Maybe Memories,” the room was hurled backward in time.
“The Taste of Ink” still hit like a generational battle cry, voices so loud they nearly drowned the band out. From the ferocity of “Bulimic” to the ache of “Poetic Tragedy,” the setlist showcased everything that made the record a cornerstone. When “Buried Myself Alive” arrived, the venue practically shook with the sheer force of the sing-along.
Moments of intimacy balanced the chaos. “On My Own” silenced the room into a hushed sway, while deep cuts like “Noises and Kisses” reminded long-time fans just how layered this record really is. Ending with “Choke Me,” plus those hidden tracks from the CD era, gave the night a sense of completeness, as if the crowd had truly stepped back into 2002 and lived it all again.
Night Two: In Love and Death
The second chapter of the trilogy carried a different weight. In Love and Death has always been heavier, steeped in heartbreak and survival, and the live performance reflected that.
From the moment the curtain dropped, Bert McCracken radiated gratitude. The angst-ridden figure of years past had given way to a frontman who was clearly at peace yet still fiercely passionate. He teased, he laughed, he shared stories, and above all, he connected.
“Hard to Say” became the defining moment of the set—Bert acknowledging how much it had once meant to him before the audience roared it back like an anthem. The album played out in its entirety, unaltered, reminding everyone how potent it still is when left untouched. No encore gimmicks, no distractions—just a record that stood tall on its own.
Night Three: Lies for the Liars
By the third night, the crowd was running on adrenaline and nostalgia, and Lies for the Liars was the perfect soundtrack. The atmosphere was part celebration, part confession, with fans giving every last ounce of energy they had left.
The swagger of “Pretty Handsome Awkward” kicked the evening into chaos, while “The Bird and the Worm” transformed the Forum into something theatrical and surreal. The volume of the crowd was so immense it often felt like they were singing louder than the PA itself.
When “With Me Tonight” rolled around, Bert stepped back and let the audience take over, their voices layered together in a thunderous wave that filled every inch of the venue. The closing moments of “Smother Me” wound things down in haunting fashion, reminding everyone that this album was built on both chaos and tenderness—and both hit just as hard in 2025.
Three records. Three nights. A quarter of a century of memories pulled into the present. This wasn’t just about hearing old songs It was about reconnecting with a piece of who we used to be, and realizing how much those songs still matter now.
Some bands from the early 2000s scene have disappeared, others feel like shadows of what they once were. The Used aren’t either of those things. They’re still vital, still vulnerable, still capable of commanding a room full of people who have carried their lyrics through every chapter of life.
These shows weren’t nostalgia, they were proof that The Used still mean as much today as they did when they first tore through our headphones all those years ago.
