Bert McCracken was vomiting in a trash can between takes while recording "Box Full of Sharp Objects." That isn't some rock and roll myth or a polished press release story. It's just what happened in 2002. When people talk about The Used self titled album, they usually get caught up in the nostalgia of eyeliner and studded belts. But if you actually sit down and listen to those twelve tracks today, it’s not just a time capsule. It’s a masterclass in raw, unhinged production that most modern "alternative" bands are too scared to touch.
The early 2000s were weird. Nu-metal was dying, pop-punk was getting a little too shiny, and then these four guys from Orem, Utah, showed up with John Feldmann. They weren't just another screamo band. They had this bizarre, jagged chemistry. It was messy. It was loud. It was deeply uncomfortable in ways that felt honest.
The Production Magic of John Feldmann and Orem's Finest
Most people don't realize how much of a gamble this record was for Reprise Records. You had a lead singer who had been living out of his car and a band that sounded like they were falling apart and coming together at the exact same time. John Feldmann, the frontman of Goldfinger, saw something in them. He didn't try to over-sanitize the sound.
On The Used self titled, the drums aren't perfectly gridded. The guitars have this thick, fuzzy layer of grit that feels like it’s scraping against your eardrums. If you listen to "Maybe Memories," the opening track, the way the feedback swells before the first riff hits—it feels dangerous. Modern production often "rectifies" these flaws. Feldmann leaned into them.
You've got Quinn Allman’s guitar work, which is honestly underrated. He wasn't playing standard power chords. He was throwing in these weird, dissonant intervals and sharp, angular movements that gave the album a post-hardcore edge that most of their peers lacked. Branden Steineckert’s drumming was frantic. It felt like he was chasing the song, trying to catch up to the chaos Bert was unleashing at the mic.
Why "Blue and Yellow" Isn't Just a Friendship Song
There is a specific kind of tension in "Blue and Yellow" that defines the record. It’s famously about the friction between Bert McCracken and Quinn Allman. Most "emo" songs of that era were about girls or hating your hometown. This was about the internal collapse of a brotherhood.
"You'll be okay," Bert sings, but he sounds like he doesn't believe it.
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The song functions as the emotional centerpiece of The Used self titled. It slows down the breakneck pace of the first half. It gives the listener room to breathe before "A Box Full of Sharp Objects" kicks the door down again. Interestingly, the label wasn't sure if a ballad-esque track like this would fly with the "hardcore" kids. They were wrong. It became a blueprint for how a heavy band could show vulnerability without losing their teeth.
The Screaming and the Subtlety
Let’s talk about the vocals. Bert McCracken’s voice on this record is a phenomenon. He has this "pretty" tenor that can instantly shatter into a high-pitched, desperate screech. It’s not the guttural growl of death metal or the "tough guy" bark of hardcore. It’s a sound of pure, unadulterated panic.
In "Say Days Ago," the bridge features these layered screams that feel like they’re coming from every corner of the room. It’s claustrophobic. But then you have a song like "The Taste of Ink." That chorus is a pure pop hook. It’s huge. It’s catchy. It’s the reason they ended up on TRL.
- "The Taste of Ink" wasn't supposed to be a radio hit.
- It was written about the literal taste of a pen bursting in someone's mouth during a long day of frustration.
- The lyrics "four o'clock in the morning" weren't a metaphor; they were just the time.
The Cultural Shift of 2002
When The Used self titled dropped on June 25, 2002, the landscape was shifting. The "Screamo" label was being thrown around loosely. Bands like Glassjaw and Thursday had paved the way, but The Used had a certain "it" factor that made them accessible to people who didn't spend their weekends at VFW hall shows.
They looked like they hadn't slept in weeks. They were chaotic on stage. Bert was known for kissing his bandmates and then throwing up. It was a visceral reaction to the boy band era. It was real.
The self-titled record eventually went Gold, then Platinum. It proved that there was a massive market for emotional intensity. It wasn't just "angst." It was a sophisticated blend of melody and violence. Without this album, you don't get the massive explosion of My Chemical Romance or the theatricality of The Black Parade. Gerard Way famously sang backup on their cover of "Under Pressure" later on, but the DNA of early MCR is all over the production style Feldmann pioneered here.
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The Artwork and the Aesthetic
You can't talk about this album without mentioning the cover art. The hanging heart. It’s iconic. Designed by Alex Pardee, it perfectly captured the grotesque-yet-beautiful vibe of the music. It wasn't a picture of the band looking cool in an alleyway. It was art that looked like it belonged in a twisted children’s book.
This visual identity helped The Used self titled stand out on the shelves of Sam Goody and Tower Records. It promised something darker than what Blink-182 was offering, but more melodic than what you'd find from Slipknot.
Technical Nuances Most People Miss
The bass playing by Jeph Howard is often lost in the mix if you’re listening on cheap earbuds. Put on a good pair of headphones and listen to "Greener with the Scenery." The bass lines are incredibly melodic. He’s not just following the root notes of the guitar. He’s providing a counter-melody that makes the song feel much larger than it actually is.
The strings on "On My Own" were another bold choice. Ending a "screamo" record with a stripped-back, orchestral track was a move usually reserved for legacy rock bands. But it worked. It proved they weren't just a flash in the pan. They had range.
Realities of the Orem Scene
The band came from a heavy Mormon culture in Utah, though most of them were outsiders within that community. That isolation is baked into the record. When Bert screams "I'm a fake" on "The Taste of Ink," it’s not just a lyric. It’s an indictment of the environment they grew up in.
They were the outcasts. They were the "trash" from Orem. That chip on their shoulder is what gives The Used self titled its aggressive energy. It’s the sound of a band trying to escape their geography.
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Common Misconceptions
One thing people get wrong is thinking this was a "manufactured" emo record. It wasn't. The band was genuinely broke. They were genuinely struggling with substance abuse issues. Bert’s health was legitimately failing during parts of the recording process. The "edginess" wasn't a marketing gimmick; it was a byproduct of their lifestyle at the time.
Another myth is that "Buried Myself Alive" is just about a breakup. While it can be interpreted that way, the band has frequently pointed toward drug addiction as the underlying theme. "I'm watching you choke / You may be my ticket out of here" takes on a much darker tone when you view it through the lens of dependency and the struggle to get clean while the world is finally starting to notice you.
The Legacy Twenty-Plus Years Later
Is it dated? Sure, parts of it are. Some of the lyrical "woe is me" tropes have been parodied to death since 2002. But the energy isn't dated. You can't fake the way Bert sounds when he hits those high notes in "Noise and Kisses."
When you compare it to the over-produced, AI-assisted rock of today, The Used self titled feels like a live wire. It’s dangerous. It’s a reminder that great art often comes from a place of absolute instability.
If you haven't listened to the record in a decade, do yourself a favor. Skip the "Greatest Hits" versions. Go back to the original tracklist. Start with "Maybe Memories" and let it play all the way through to the hidden track "Choke Me." That hidden track, by the way, is a 2-minute blast of pure hardcore punk that shows exactly where their roots were. It’s the sound of a band that didn't care about being pretty.
How to Appreciate This Album Today
To get the most out of a re-listen or a first-time dive into this era of music, follow these steps:
- Listen on High-Fidelity Gear: The layering on this album is surprisingly complex. John Feldmann used a lot of subtle ear candy—tambourines, tiny vocal harmonies, and dissonant guitar overdubs—that get lost on phone speakers.
- Watch the "Maybe Memories" Documentary: If you can find the old DVD footage, watch it. It shows the actual grit of their early tours. It contextualizes the screams.
- Analyze the Song Structure: Notice how few of these songs follow a standard Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus format. They often veer off into weird bridges or extended outros that shouldn't work but do.
- Compare to "In Love and Death": Their second album is great, but compare it to the self-titled. You can hear where they started to polish the edges. The self-titled is the only time they sounded truly "uncaged."
- Check the B-Sides: Songs like "Alone This Way" and "In a Need" from this era show just how much high-quality material they were churning out during these sessions.
The impact of this record on the 2000s alternative scene cannot be overstated. It was the bridge between the underground and the mainstream, and it did it without compromising the sheer, ugly reality of being young and lost.