There are albums that don’t just define a band, they define a moment, a mindset, and in many cases, an entire generation of emotionally charged fans. Lies for Liars, The Used’s 2007 chaotic, genre-blurring masterpiece, is one of those albums. And when news broke that the band would be playing it in full at The Dome in London, it felt like a rare chance to revisit a time when eyeliner ran thick, feelings were loud, and post-hardcore still had room for melody, madness, and melodrama.

The energy inside The Dome was electric before the first note rang out. It wasn’t just excitement, it was reverence. Fans who had clutched this record like a lifeline in their teenage years now stood shoulder to shoulder, older but still fiercely connected to the raw emotion The Used always brought. As the lights dimmed and the opening riff of “The Ripper” slashed through the air, it was immediately clear: this wasn’t just a play-through, it was a resurrection.

Frontman Bert McCracken, ever the theatrical ringleader, emerged with his signature wild-eyed intensity and a mischievous grin that suggested we were all about to be dragged straight into his twisted circus. His voice, still capable of veering from delicate croons to guttural screams in a heartbeat, hasn’t lost its edge. In fact, if anything, the years have added weight to his delivery. The sarcasm and sadness in “Pretty Handsome Awkward” felt even more biting, the desperation in “With Me Tonight” more palpable.

The band was tight and confident, with guitarist Joey Bradford effortlessly channeling the spirit of the original riffs while looking like a god in the wind machine and lighting, played the set with a renewed bite. Bassist Jeph Howard and drummer Dan Whitesides held down a thunderous rhythm section, keeping the chaos controlled but never restrained. Jeph’s screams echoed the small venue and shot straight through the chest. The songs felt massive in the intimate venue, with every breakdown hitting like a gut punch and every chorus a cathartic scream-along.

There were no flashy visuals or over-the-top stage tricks, just four musicians, a crowd that knew every word, and an album that still means everything. Standouts like “The Bird and the Worm” and “Hospital” felt as fresh and feral as they did in 2007, their mix of emo theatrics, punk energy, and almost vaudevillian flair translating perfectly to a live setting. Bringing a selection of fans from the crowd on stage during “Paralyzed” was a wonderful thing to see. Young and old fans, dancing together while Bert sung out those familiar lyrics that we all used to scream in our bedrooms. “Smother Me,” the closer both on the album and in the set, was delivered with a tenderness that had the entire room swaying and singing in near silence by the end. It was an unexpectedly soft and perfect way to close out a set that had spent most of its time being ferociously loud.

There’s always a risk with album shows—that they’ll feel like going through the motions or leaning too hard on nostalgia. But The Used didn’t just revisit Lies for Liars, they reanimated it. This wasn’t a band resting on their past; it was a band celebrating an album that helped shape who they are, alongside the fans who had grown with them.

As the house lights came up and the crowd stumbled out, sweaty, smiling, a little dazed, it was clear that for one night in London, Lies for Liars wasn’t just remembered. It was relived.