The Used
Bert McCracken gives The Used's debut a voice that rarely seems comfortable inside one kind of song. He can scream with considerable force, then move into a clear melody without making the change feel like a different singer has arrived. That flexibility helps a varied record keep a strong emotional identity.
Maybe Memories begins with the rougher side of the band. The guitars push hard and the vocal sounds close to breaking, yet the arrangement has enough shape to make the force useful. Say Days Ago is similarly restless, with the drums and guitar work contributing to the excitement rather than waiting for the singer to supply it.
The Taste of Ink makes the band's pop instincts obvious. Its rhythm is direct and the chorus arrives with a sense of release, but McCracken keeps enough strain in his voice to prevent the song from becoming too comfortable. The hook works because the frustration leading towards it has a convincing physical presence.
Buried Myself Alive finds another strong balance between an accessible tune and a more abrasive performance. The changes in the singing feel connected to the song's shifting emotional pressure. Blue and Yellow is more open, letting its melody carry affection without requiring a constant return to screaming.
The album's range is both an attraction and a small complication. Its early aggression and later ballads do not always feel like parts of the same sequence, and some of the lyrical anguish is less distinctive than the performances. The band are more persuasive when a specific melody gives that intensity somewhere to land.
On My Own provides the clearest quieter moment. The exposed voice and restrained backing show that McCracken does not need volume to hold attention. That matters across a debut so often associated with its heavier passages. The Used is effective because it treats vulnerability and aggression as connected impulses. The changes can be abrupt, but the best songs make those changes feel necessary rather than merely dramatic.
