The Used at The Wiltern – Night One: Reliving the Nostalgia of Their Self-Titled Debut

There are shows you attend, and then there are shows that change you. The Used’s May 8th performance at The Wiltern—night one of their three-night album-run—was something rare. Not just a strong set or a fun night out, but a full-body reminder of what it means to feel music in your bones. Playing their 2002 self-titled debut front to back, The Used delivered a show that was equal parts time machine and group therapy session.

The evening kicked off with a message projected on a screen that draped the stage:

“May I have your attention please. Night One with The Used is about to begin. We invite you to please find your seat or standing area, and prepare yourself to witness the best band in the world.”

Then came a countdown from ten, and a rush of archival footage: Warped Tour chaos, behind-the-scenes clips, grainy home videos, and flashes of music videos edited together with sharp, dynamic precision. It was emotional. Just the visuals alone had people teary-eyed—including me. It wasn’t insincere, overhyped nostalgia; it was raw and real. By the time the screen dropped and they launched into “Maybe Memories,” the crowd was already fully immersed.

The band—Bert McCracken (vocals), Jeph Howard (bass), Dan Whitesides (drums), and Joey Bradford (guitar)—sounded incredible. There was no going-through-the-motions here; they played like the songs still mattered—like they still had something to prove. Every track hit with purpose, devotion, and a kind of emotional muscle that made the years between then and now feel irrelevant.

Early in the night, Bert dedicated the show to the diehards: “This one is for those of you who’ve been here from the beginning.” He let us know that “this record has saved my life over and over again” and called it a pleasure to play it in full. Before “Poetic Tragedy,” he shared that it started as a poem—a small detail, but one that added weight to an already intimate song. Then, with a grin, he hinted, “For those of you singing every word, we’ve got a surprise for you at the end.”

And then there were moments of pure chaos and joy. Before tearing into “A Box Full of Sharp Objects,” Bert called it “the greatest song ever written”—and in that room, at that moment, he wasn’t wrong. Mid-song, they veered straight into a cover of “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and somehow, it felt completely natural—more like a seamless nod to their influences than a left turn.

When Bert declared, half-laughing, “I’m having the best time LA, and that’s all that fucking matters is that I’m having a good time, are you having a good time too?” the crowd erupted.

Later, after “Blue and Yellow,” Bert looked out over the room and said, “You guys fucking rock. This is a rowdy bunch in here, you guys are loud!” And he meant it. The Wiltern was completely packed—shoulder to shoulder with fans who were fully engaged. From the first note to the last, the energy never dipped. People sang every word like their lives depended on it, feeding the band just as much as the band fed them. There was this constant, unspoken exchange between stage and crowd that made the whole room feel electric.

When they hit “Greener With the Scenery,” Bert was visibly excited and said, “We never play this one live.” That sparked an immediate reaction from the crowd, and it felt like the room collectively leaned in, hanging on every note. Before launching into “Noise and Kisses”—which he called his favorite on the record—he encouraged the crowd: “If you know the words, sing it. If you don’t, make up your own.” That one really hit home for me—Noise and Kisses has always been my favorite too. I immediately dropped what I was doing, took out my phone, and recorded from the balcony to eternally memorialize such a monumental moment for me. And, just like that, it was yet another moment where I couldn’t help but well up with tears.

As they wrapped up the album with “Pieces Mended,” it felt like the perfect conclusion. But then, true to his word, Bert laughed, grinned, and led the band into “Choke Me”—screaming, “ONE TWO THREE FOUR!” It was the hidden track that fans—myself included—used to wait for in silence, five minutes after the last song on the original CD, along with “Polly.” We all knew it was coming, from the moment he mentioned a surprise, but that didn’t make it any less exciting. It was a moment that felt as raw and satisfying as the very first song of the night. And this was when the crowd became completely feral and unhinged.

This wasn’t just another great show. It was something bigger than that—especially for those of us who grew up on these songs. It was emotional, loud, sweaty, chaotic, and deeply human.

This was also one of a few shows, where I found myself completely unable to separate being a fan from being a photographer. At times, I’d stop shooting briefly, just to scream the lyrics with the crowd, losing myself in the moment. I glanced around, and I saw the other photographers doing the same thing—at the top of their lungs, smiles from ear to ear. There was no holding back. We were all in it together, united by the music in a way you don’t always get to experience from the photo pit.

As much as we love what we do, it’s easy to overlook why we do it. Sometimes, it becomes a routine, a series of shots and setups. First three, no flash, leave the pit, relocated to your well-known vantage points, quick phone video for the socials, take notes, and so on. But that night, none of us could keep it fully together. There was no separating the work from the feeling. And it hit me hard. There’s rarely money in this. We do it for the love of music, for that connection. That night, it was a reminder of just how deeply this can affect you. It was a release, a reminder of the very core of why we’re drawn to this world. I found myself wiping away tears more than once, overcome by the sheer power of the experience.

I’ve seen The Used twice at Warped Tour in the early 2000s and twice more recently at When We Were Young. But nothing—not even close—has hit like this did. It healed something so deep within me, something I didn’t even realize needed healing. I texted my husband, my best friend, and one of my editors that night: “This was the best show I’ve ever been to.” And I meant it.

I immediately went looking for tickets for the next two nights—In Love and Death and Lies for the Liars—just to go as a fan. I need more.

It’s always been said The Used is “the best band in the world.” I used to think that was just an anecdotal line. But now? Now I believe it with all of my heart.

We’d like to thank The Used so very much for having us out to cover their debut album performance. It was one of my favorite shoots of all time.