When Lies for the Liars dropped in 2007, it felt like stepping into a completely different era of both The Used and my own life. By then, I wasn’t processing things the same way I had in the past. I was masking a lot, putting on a front to keep everything moving forward. So while this album didn’t hit quite as hard emotionally as the two before it, it still found its place in heavy rotation. There were songs that dug in deep and felt like they understood where I was, even if I didn’t fully understand it myself.

From the start, Lies for the Liars felt like a big shift. The Used leaned into something more theatrical, more experimental, and more self-aware. It was a noticeable change from the raw chaos of their early work, but somehow it still made perfect sense. The band didn’t sound like they were chasing trends or trying to please anyone. It felt like they knew the scene and the culture around them were changing, and instead of resisting, they chose to evolve with confidence. It was bold, unapologetic, and authentic.

There are moments on this record that hit differently even now. The Bird and the Worm is eerie and haunting, carried by one of Bert McCracken’s most dramatic vocal performances. Find a Way and Pain sit on the opposite end of that emotional spectrum, feeling introspective and quietly powerful. Liar Liar (Burn in Hell) carries that signature bite and sense of rebellion that made The Used who they are, while Pretty Handsome Awkward remains one of the band’s most recognizable songs, thanks in part to its place in pop culture through the Transformers soundtrack. But for me, those deeper cuts—the ones that explored self-doubt, identity, and frustration—are what tied the record back to the emotional roots of the band’s earlier work.

While some fans struggled with the more tongue-in-cheek, radio-ready elements of this album, it never bothered me. It wasn’t about the polish or the production style. It was about the connection within certain songs that felt like The Used were still right there, still telling stories that mirrored my own in their own chaotic way. Those tracks reminded me that the band hadn’t gone anywhere—they had just grown.

Looking back, Lies for the Liars stands as one of The Used’s most misunderstood records. Some longtime fans criticized it for moving too far from their early sound, but I think that misses the point entirely. Bands grow because people grow. Bert and the guys weren’t the same people they were in 2002 or 2004, and that change was reflected in their music. They took risks, experimented, and gave themselves the space to evolve without losing their identity.

It may not have carried the same emotional punch as their first two albums for me personally, but it still represents an important chapter in their story—and in mine. It’s an album that captures a moment of transformation, both for the band and for anyone who grew alongside them.

Score: 8.8/10. A bold and misunderstood evolution that proved The Used could grow, adapt, and still hit with honesty and authenticity.