At Liberty Hall tonight, the air feels electric before a note is even played. Hands Like Houses step out first, and there’s a kind of homegrown pride that ripples through the room. The Canberra outfit bring a polished intensity, guitars cutting through the low haze of stage smoke. Midway through, they pull out a rousing version of “Wicked Game,” bending its melancholy into something raw and urgent. Not long after, the floor fractures into a circle mosh, vocalist Josh Raven plunging into the pit and resurfacing unscathed, grinning like the chaos was all part of the plan. It’s the kind of set that doesn’t just warm up a crowd—it reshapes the room’s energy.
By the time The Used take the stage, Liberty Hall has shifted into something more feverish. The show starts off with a countdown that morphs into a nostalgic walk through the Used’s triumphs—music festivals, CD covers, and discs flickering across a pure white curtain. Suddenly it falls, revealing the band with Dan Whitesides on the tallest drum stand I have ever seen. Behind me the crowd is going crazy. The floor is packed shoulder-to-shoulder, fans pressed close, sweat already clinging to the walls. Bert McCracken prowls the stage with a mix of menace and mischief, a performer who knows exactly how to draw chaos to the surface. McCracken tells the crowd that he now resides in Australia and has recently received his citizenship; this sends the audience into further throes of delight. Strobe lights fracture the room into flashes of colour, and the pit heaves like one body, spilling back and forth in waves. From the balcony to the front rail, the audience carries the weight of 25 years, voices lifted, arms outstretched.
The night isn’t about nostalgia—it’s about survival, communion, and the sheer force of two bands making Liberty Hall feel like the centre of the universe for a few unrelenting hours.
The Used have two more show in Sydney, before visiting Melbourne. Tickets HERE.
Images Deb Pelser
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