When In Love and Death came out, it landed in my life at a time when everything felt uncertain. My father had just passed away, and this record became something more than music for me. It was an emotional crutch, a place to put everything I didn’t know how to process. Where the self-titled album had opened the door for me to feel, In Love and Death walked me through the pain that followed. It was heavier, more vulnerable, and far more personal.

This album carries a different kind of weight. It’s rooted in grief, but there’s also this strange beauty in how it captures both loss and survival. Songs like Yesterday’s Feelings, I’m a Fake, Hard to Say, and Take It Away became tied to memories of that time in my life, to moments of anger, sadness, and reflection. Each one felt like it understood what words couldn’t. There’s something special about the way Bert delivers those emotions—he doesn’t just sing about pain, he bleeds through every word.

Compared to the self-titled album, In Love and Death feels more polished, but that extra production value doesn’t dull its edge. The sound is cleaner, the structure more refined, yet Bert still maintains that raw, guttural energy that makes The Used so distinct. It’s a record that knows how to balance chaos and clarity, emotion and control. You can tell the band was growing, personally and musically, and that growth gives this album its power.

The lyrics throughout the record are what truly set it apart. There are lines that cut deep, especially for anyone who has experienced loss. It’s easy to get swept up in them, to find your own story reflected back at you in the words. That’s always been the magic of The Used—they write pain in a way that doesn’t alienate you, it invites you in. It gives you space to feel and to heal.

Hearing songs like I’m a Fake, Take It Away, and All That I’ve Got live has always been something special. They’ve been staples in their sets for years, and fans never fail to scream every word. But getting to hear them performed alongside the rest of the album, in order, will be something completely different. It will be emotional, cathartic, and probably just as heavy now as it was back then.

Looking back, In Love and Death stands as one of those albums that not only defined a moment for the band, but for the scene as a whole. It gave listeners permission to grieve, to be angry, to feel. Some critics claimed it was more commercial or calculated, but living through that era, it was clear that Bert and the guys were just writing from where they were in life. This wasn’t pandering; it was growth. It was honesty.

Two decades later, In Love and Death still holds its place as one of The Used’s most important works. It’s raw, real, and unashamed to hurt. For me, it will always be a record that helped me survive something impossible, and for the scene, it remains a reminder that pain can be loud, messy, and beautiful all at once.

Score: 9/10. A raw and cathartic record that turned grief into connection and proved The Used were never just another band in the scene—they were the pulse of it.