Bert
McCracken-vocals
Jeph Howard-bass
Branden Steineckert-drums
Quinn Allman-guitar
The Used thrives on
friction. You can hear it on the band's combustible self-titled
debut. You can hear it on the tension-filled follow-up, In Love
And Death. It's what makes a Used album or performance such an
exhilarating ride. Throughout In Love And Death, you can make
out a faint ticking sound, but you never know until the very
last second whether it's attached to an alarm clock or a time
bomb.
Both options are just as likely. The Orem, Utah-based quartet is
made up of four distinct personalities, each with individual
musical tastes that don't always overlap and strong ideals that
are often diametrically opposed. The chemistry might have
combusted a lesser band before it even started, but the equally
passionate friendships and shared hardships that make up The
Used have held it together.
"There was pretty much some drama going on during the whole
making of the new album," drummer Branden Steineckert says with
a laugh. "There's no such thing as a perfect working
environment, and I think the music is better because it didn't
come easy."
And what friction the band doesn't create within its own ranks,
the members can easily find in the world surrounding them. To an
outsider, the church-based culture of Orem might seem like the
perfect incubator for a new rock revolution. But ask singer Bert
McCracken what he's rebelling against, and in time-honored
tradition he'll respond, "whattaya got?"
"I've rebelled against all types of conformity throughout my
life, not just Utah's conservative culture," he says. "I
rebelled against the Mormon Church by going to other churches. I
rebelled against my parents by not eating meat. I rebelled
against my friends and myself by doing drugs. And I rebelled
against everything that was holding me down by playing music
with these guys."
"That was my way of rebelling, too," says guitarist Quinn Allman.
"Believing in something real and powerful like music. God is
just a concept, but music is tangible."
The band's faith in music ultimately provided an escape from
their sleepy hometown, as well as an escape from a combined band
history that included poverty, homelessness and, for Bert, drug
addiction. The Used documented its own history with surprising
candor on the Maybe Memories CD-plus-DVD title, presciently
capturing its rise from bedroom to enormodome on digital video.
The band's faith in music ultimately provided an escape from
their sleepy hometown, as well as an escape from a combined band
history that included poverty, homelessness and, for Bert, drug
addiction. The Used documented its own history with surprising
candor on the Maybe Memories CD-plus-DVD title, presciently
capturing its rise from bedroom to enormodome on digital video.
"If you hear a rumor that there's a big party on the other side
of the fence, you just want to peek over so bad," Quinn says of
the band's desire to flee Orem, to which they've since returned
following their success. "We just kept repeating to ourselves,
'We can get out of here. We can do this.'"
"In our minds, it wasn't an option to fail," says bassist Jeph
Howard. "We didn't have anything to fall back on."
In many ways, The Used is a completely different band than the
one that recorded its debut (the disc has since sold in excess
of a million copies). Prior to the release of that album in June
2002, the band had only performed twenty shows in and around
Orem. Since then, they've logged a superhuman 600 dates around
the world, including successful stints on Ozzfest, Vans Warped
Tour and, most recently, Linkin Park's Projekt Revolution tour.
Not surprisingly, In Love And Death reflects that accelerated
growth cycle.
"I don't think we could have written the first album again
because we're all such different people now," says Branden.
"Before, we were just writing alone in our house and we were
hungry and we were trying to work jobs and we couldn't afford
drum sticks and strings. Those things were easier to come by
this time, but we had new challenges and new pressures weighing
upon us."
The band worked once again with producer John Feldmann. As with
the first album, Feldmann enthusiastically facilitated the
band's experimental flights and fought alongside--and
occasionally with (that friction again)--the band to make the
best possible album, one built to weather fickle trends.
"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Branden says of the in-studio
chemistry. "We enjoyed working with Feldmann so much the first
time, plus he knows each of us so well as people. He watched us
grow from being kids from nowhere who knew nothing to the
musicians we are today. It seemed very necessary to do the album
with him again. He complements us really well."
"We all knew that the final product we created together last
time was totally sick," says Jeph. "And we were confident this
time that none of us would stop until we were all happy with the
results. We all got what we wanted and I think we impressed each
other even though we'd butt heads. Everyone was really pushing
themselves and trying new things."
As such, the album has incredible range. On one extreme, there's
"Listening," a bullet-shaped juggernaut of syncopated
guitar-bass-drums over which Bert alternately caterwauls and
croons, simultaneously singing about and approximating a
communication breakdown. On the other extreme, there's "Lunacy
Fringe," a jaunty, Bacharach-esque pop number arranged for
brushed snare, stand-up bass and pizzicato strings.
With a long-term career beckoning, you have to wonder if Bert
has decided to rein in the pace and run this heat more like a
marathon than a sprint. "That's a good question," he says.
"Sometimes things just seem out of my control, but they really
never are. That's what 'Take It Away' is about. I just need to
take small steps every day.
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