Jake Cassman – ‘Idling High’

A tapestry of warm folk, melodic rock, and introspective songwriting shines throughout Idling High, the new album from California-based artist Jake Cassman. Drawing on his varied creative journey — from touring with his previous project Drunken Logic and busking, to composing for theater and producing music analysis podcasts — Cassman channels his return to California into an intimate exploration of personal growth, self-reflection, and the challenges that shape daily life.

The album opens with a powerful sense of atmospheric momentum. “Controlled Burn” is initially propelled by hazy guitar twangs and twinkling piano, then traversing into soft acoustic strums and Cassman’s resonating vocal presence. “20 minutes ’til next year, I’ll lose myself a minute here,” he lets out, observing how the “future’s barely out of reach” as he gazes at the ocean on a Maui beach. The track, written there on a New Year’s Eve, stirs in portraying a personal reckoning, where one acknowledges they can’t burn away what they can’t control. Its finale, with resonating group vocals, is emotively impactful as well in its harmoniously layered allure.

From there, Idling High doesn’t let up in its personal, melodically affecting songcraft — consistently succeeding there, across a variety of tonal pursuits. The subsequent “Thanks For Waking Me Up” moves from the opener’s more contemplative stylings into an ardent rock unleashing. “I just can’t wait around anymore,” expressive vocals resonate into a title-touting gratitude, bolstered by prancing piano and buzzy guitar distortion. While “Thanks For Waking Me Up” compels in exuding a sense of prevailing after personal paralysis, the affecting “Where Do I Start?” lingers in the quiet ache of uncertainty, conveying the fragile moment before renewal when self-doubt and longing still outweigh momentum; its organ infusions, piano work, and “tired of my reflection” lyrical melancholy invigorate into the title-touting questioning.

“Asking For a Friend” also enthralls, infusing radiant synths amidst a folk-pop amiability — and taking particular inspiration from Warren Zevon. The vocals enamor in portraying modern anxiety and intimate insecurities — posing various concerns as offhand questions like “is it normal to panic when you get bored?” and pondering what to do when self-love is absent; it’s another magnetic piece of relatable songwriting, exploring human nature with insight, humor, and approachability. Both “Asking for a Friend” and the excellent “I Think I’m Happy” blend humor with blunt self-reflection, using wit not to dodge pain but to make it bearable; the latter excels in its colorful piano and clap-laden enthusiasm, feeling like a response to the boredom ponderings in the previous track, by declaring “sometimes, it’s fine to be a little numb.”

Another standout track, “October Burning” captivates in its emotional folk ferocity; Cassman’s vocals are especially melodic here, bolstered by an array of twangy guitars, sturdy acoustic strums, and the beautiful backing vocals of Lisa Crawley (who also features on the tracks “We All Look the Same” and “Where Do I Start?”). The track was written in a form inspired by George Strait’s “Amarillo By Morning,” and is specifically about devastation of the 2018 Southern California wildfires; it found continued relevance following the wildfires of January 2025. Its powerful lyrics trace the chaos and intimacy born from disaster, where scorched skies and power outages mirror inner unraveling, yet moments of fragile human connection offer the only shelter. “October is burning, and no one wants to burn alone,” Cassman sings, capturing a need for closeness in the midst of and following tumult.

Culminating a year-long rollout of singles, Idling High showcases Cassman’s skill at turning private reckonings into shared experiences. From the haunting resilience of “October Burning” to the fervent rock within “Thanks For Waking Me Up” and the introspective pedal steel warmth of “Anna, I’m Not Interesting,” the album navigates vulnerability, humor, and human connection with poise and clarity.

Mike Mineo

I'm the founder/editor of Obscure Sound, which was formed in 2006. Previously, I wrote for PopMatters and Stylus Magazine.

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