Should one listen to this record – or the two records that proceed it – without knowing the background of this project, it would be expected for them to be at least a tiny bit concerned. After all, Aaron West is a man who sings about his experiences in divorce, child loss, homelessness, barroom brawls and now spiralling addiction in a way that’s so candidly intimate it’s genuinely uncomfortable. It’s the sound of a man who is quite literally melancholia made incarnate, a vessel for nothing but suffering via self-sabotage. It’s all good though; he doesn’t actually exist.
Originally envisioned as a songwriting exercise and fictional character study by Dan Campbell of The Wonder Years, Aaron West has gone from a personal experiment in songcraft to something of a dearly devoted figurehead and bastion of survival against every personal catastrophe possible. Across the two records exploring this character’s turbulent life post-divorce so far – 2014’s We Don’t Have Each Other and 2019’s Routine Maintenance – Campbell has illustrated the last disastrous decade of West’s life with increasing detail and musical intricacy. Now, with The Roaring Twenties a fifteen person ensemble encompassing brass, violas, cellos, banjos and some good ol’ fashioned sad slide guitars, In Lieu Of Flowers sees Campbell and company narrating the latest chapter of West’s lonesome journey in the most evocative and illustrative way possible. It’s the most textured, dynamic and detailed record under the Aaron West banner thus far, and whilst this isn’t always a joyful listen, it is brilliantly rich and most wonderful.
As established fans and existing listeners shall know by now, Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties inhabits a unique niche genre-wise. With the band’s sound built upon indie folk-rock stylings a la The Mountain Goats but delivered with the forefront immediacy of Campbell’s emo and pop-punk heritage, the project has helped the band enjoy the kind of creative freedom that allows them to explore the maximalism and minimalism of a sound of their own design. Here, on this record, their sound has evolved into something that can only be described as fully accomplished emo-Americana. Whilst such a sound was originally proposed within the band’s aforementioned last record – most prominently in the brilliant amalgamation of The Wonder Years and Bruce Springsteen that was lead single ‘Runnin’ Toward The Light’ – here, the collective behind Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties take that blueprint and maximise it, realising its full potential.
Opener ‘Smoking Rooms’ presents such a fact from the get-go. Whilst the aforementioned Routine Maintenance ended on a somewhat positive note, with West finding peace amidst his family, it appears the fictional events between that record and this one weren’t happy ones. “It feels like shit to be alone again” is the first lyric to greet one here. It’s a sighed, exhausted statement, and much like the feeble and defeated acoustic riff that accompanies, it’s one almost utterly void of spirit. However, as the track erupts from self-pitting lethargy to sudden energy with blood-pumping horns and impassioned saxophone, that dichotomy that is this band’s now realised sound takes form. As the proceeding breezy ‘Roman Candles’ and the country twang within the new-age apocalypticism of previously released single ‘Paying Bills at the End of the World’ attests to, this record sounds positivity alive in how this collective know how to intertwine these multitude of textures perfectly.
In fact, that first record from 2014 almost sounds barebones in comparison to the awe-inspiring and massively sweeping movements found here. ‘Monogahela Park’ is just of one of such moments found in this album. As the swaying, heart-wrenching cellos animate the sense of bittersweetness that comes with unexpectedly reconnecting with a teenage love (for those following the story, no it’s not that character), it’s impossible not to be lovingly swathed and embraced by the gorgeous textures of this song as it is not to be moved by its devastating sentimentalism. The desperate alt rock energy that will make ‘Spitting In The Wind’ a future live favourite follows similar suit and further highlights this record’s ability to invoke emotions in their most potent form, and to return to the previous point on how their organic sound stands unlimited by genre norms, In Lieu Of Flowers is almost unparalleled in the way it incites emotional responses. Yes, Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties as a collective have always had a penchant for invoking an emotional response – mainly in the form of tears – but with their sound established and fully fleshed out to its full extent, one cannot be legitimately spiritually moved. One would have to be soulless not be moved to tears by the embodiment of melancholia that is ‘Whiplash’ or feel chilled by the sudden isolation that serves as the crux of ‘Alone At St. Lukes’.
But one the most vital elements of In Lieu Of Flowers is the story at hand. Or furthermore, how the fully achieved sound of this project furthers and seemingly concludes the story now 10 years in the making. If anything, with the full potential of this project now realised, the record almost pans out like a novel nigh-on impossible to put down. The textures, motifs, perfectly demonstrated interplay within the instrumentalism acts like the detail and subtext within the tale, adding intricacies beyond the nature of words. In fact, as In Lieu Of Flowers continues, one can just visualise the tattered Aaron West made flesh as he mans the helm of this very real emo-Americana orchestra before the opera that is his fictional life; his exhausted and pathetic form swaying weakly as he blindly commands The Roaring Twenties quietly through the ode to blissful oblivion that is ‘I’m An Albatross’, him standing upright and desperate as he flamboyantly drives the band through the redemptive rehab refrain that is ‘Runnin’ Out Of Excuses’. And finally, him triumphant and bold as he leads the band through the life affirming anthem that is the colossal title track, a song that embodies what makes this record just to undeniably brilliant.
Of course, those emotionally invested in the story of Aaron West will find the most enjoyment in this record – especially with its revelations, returning characters, new character arc, cross references and it’s genuinely unexpected climax – but with the way the band utilise their sound for storytelling, those unacquainted with West or his co-conspirators will find plenty to afore and cherish here. And in all, should In Lieu Of Flowers truly be the final chapter of the Aaron West saga, everyone involved in the creation of this story should feel fulfilled, well accomplished and legitimately proud of themselves. Here, Dan Campbell and the musicians that comprise The Roaring Twenties have not only created a body of work that’s genuinely so rich, textured and enthralling, but have forged a story that unifies music and language. This is a masterclass of storytelling through songwriting, and all things considered, one of the most achieved and immersive concept records to date.