Bert McCracken-vocals
Jeph Howard-bass
Branden Steineckert-drums
Quinn Allman-guitar

"This could be my chance to break out…" - "The Taste Of Ink"

Some go their entire lives toting an unrealized dream and an accompanying regret. Others slave to an instinctive hunger and hunt said dream until the hunger is sated.

So goes the story of The Used. Hailing from the staunchly conservative town of Orem, Utah, the band surmounted homelessness, substance abuse and the closed-minded environs of their hometown to become a band rock and roll just might need; one that creates compelling, sincere music and performs it with uncontrived style and verve live and on their debut album for Warner/Reprise records.

Recorded in LA at the home studio of producer John Feldmann and at London's legendary Olympic Studios (Beatles, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin), it contains thirteen anthems and ballads that thrum with the intensity of four guys who have sacrificed everything for one thing: music. Their effort is conveyed in a spray of crashing rhythms, sublime melodies, candid lyrics, dynamic vocals and, natch, big guitars.

For The Used, music transcends the Stepford-like surroundings of their youth. "You're held down so long and told what to do," says drummer Branden Steineckert. "You're supposed to fit in this fuckin' mold all the time. Music is your one place to break out and just say "fuck it all, do what you want, be the person you are with no fuckin' rules."

And fuck it all, they did. Relationships, day jobs and other responsibilities were flushed. They survived, literally, on the kindness of strangers. "We'd spend hours panhandling so we could eat and then we'd bum rides to my brother's garage so we could practice," reveals Steineckert, adding the lean times fortified friendships within the band and creativity flourished in tandem. There was only one obstacle.

The Used is a live band, and Orem and neighboring Provo¾together, the towns comprise the most devout, closed-minded concentration of Mormons in the country¾is far from a live music mecca. When The Used managed to land a gig at one of the scant venues, their show so rattled the club owners' dainty constitutions that they weren't invited back. Steineckert explains, "Everywhere we played, people wouldn't let us back and stuff because the way we play, I don't know...we kinda...I think it would frighten some people," he chuckles. "It's just us goin' off, and it's too much, the puke and the fuckin' blood and things like that."

The Used live experience is indeed a visceral one. Every note, every scream and every leap carries the possibility of a laceration or a contusion, a lost shoe, a damaged instrument or worse: McCracken, who prowls the stage singing and screaming as if jockeying for an aneurysm, often drops chow. "Sometimes, there's no way in hell I can keep it down," he laughs. "I just love to scream in people's faces and sometimes it makes me puke."

He affectionately calls it Bertie's Madness and, while revolting at face value, there is no better example of The Used's ethic (giving everything to the music). Are they the band rock and roll desperately needs? We'll leave that for you to decide. Should you vote affirmative, just know it's a mutual need, and The Used isn't taking anything for granted.

"So here I am/it's in my hands/and I'll savor every moment of it." - "The Taste Of Ink"