Jake Owen - Dreams to Dream

Jake Owen’s biggest hit is undoubtedly 2011’s “Barefoot Blue Jean Night,” a summery anthem about never growing up, never slowing down. In 2025, though, Owen isn’t feeling those lyrics so acutely. “Now, all these years later, I’m going, ‘I totally grew up. I’ve totally slowed down in certain ways,’” he says. “I’ve just become a guy that wants to sing songs for people that have also matured with me in my life.”

A trusted troubadour for hot summer nights and cold beers, Owen is now in his forties, tangling with separations from lost lovers, raising kids, and growing out of the fresh-faced kid that headed down to Nashville 20 years back with a six-string and a dream. Not that he doesn’t still have both — the latter has just matured. Case in point: Dreams to Dream, Owen’s long-awaited, Shooter Jennings-co-produced foray into classic, honky-tonk country, out 11/7 on Good Company Entertainment. Owen’s first independent studio album, featuring 10 original tracks and two stellar covers, tells the tale of a man at a crossroads — and what it takes to set out a new path.

When Owen was a boy down in Vero Beach, Florida, he used to pick out country tunes by the likes of Hank Williams Jr. and Merle Haggard on back porches and hay bales for his adoring fans (a.k.a. his parents). And, as he grew up and kicked off a successful Nashville career, part of him was still back there on those bales. “Everybody just kept saying to me, ‘Jake, why not make a record like that?’ I was always like, ‘Ah, one day, maybe I will,’” he says. “But, in all honesty, when I got a record deal and got thrown into the whole world of Nashville music, I was so invested in that.”

A passel of gold and platinum records, 10 number-one singles, and more than three billion streams later, though, and Owen was looking for a new challenge. “This facade sometimes has worn me down, and it really feels cathartic to be honest about a lot of stuff in my life — how I feel, where I see myself going, and how I see myself going there,” he says. “Where I feel most comfortable is grabbing my guitar and singing a song that fits my voice really smoothly. I feel like it’s more honest.”

Owen wasn’t expecting much when he commented on one of Shooter Jennings’ Instagram posts, half-jokingly suggesting that they make a honky-tonk record, but the producer called his bluff. Two days later, Owen’s manager had Jennings on the line.“He told me, ‘Man, I’ve seen you do your country thing a few times online, like playing an old Merle Haggard song or Hank Junior song. I always thought to myself, “Why the fuck doesn’t this guy make a record like this?”’ So, Owen made his way to Jennings’ L.A. studio, Sunset Sounds, during the height of the wildfires to do just that. “I had that feeling again — excitement, but also nervous and not knowing if it was gonna work,” he says. “But if it did work, how cool would that be? And that was the exact same feeling that I had moving to Nashville.” It was a cozy yet electric scene: Jennings and Owen cracking jokes in the sepia-toned studio, creativity crackling as they collaborated with the likes of songwriters Ben Chapman and Kendell Marvel, as well as long-time shooter pal, guitarist/harmonic player Leroy Powell.

The record kicks off on theme with the syrupy, twangy title track, a nod to Hank Williams Jr.’s “Feelin’ Better” and Junior’s frustration with being pigeon-holed by his dad’s fans. “It’s about going out there and finding this newfound, burning desire to make old-school country,” Owen says. “Nobody’s seen this side of me before. And that’s what I really want to showcase. I’ve been down, but I ain’t no quitter, and I’m about to back up on my feet.” Waylon Jennings cover “Them Old Love Song” creeps in next like blue moonlight on a porch swing, featuring pal Savannah Conley on supporting vocals. “I grew up with love all around me; my parents are still together after 45 years, and my grandparents for 80,” Owen says. “Now I’m separated again and in this lonely part of my life. But, like, Jennings says, ‘Maybe one day I’ll find me a true, fine woman, and maybe we can get it together like people do.’”

The sugar-sweet “Long Time Lovin’ You” honeys in next. “It’s a ‘nothing in this life lasts forever’ kind of sentiment of a song,” Owen says. “My mom loves those types of songs where my voice is very soft and kind of pleasant on the ear. And I thought that was a very fitting tune for what we’re what we were putting together.” And then there’s the dusty, daydream of a track, “Wouldn’t Be Gone,” an ode to being on the road. “I could go work at a hardware store, work a nine-to-five job and sleep in my own bed,” Owen says. “But that would be contradicting the whole premise of this album: continually chasing those things that drive you.” Country star Jamey Johnson joins in on the mournful “The Jukebox Knows,” a nod to George Jones’ breakup tune “Don’t Cry Darlin’.”

“Fool Like Me” trails behind like a sad ghost, kind of spooky and sweet. “I think there’s a lot of songs out there that talk about the loss of a relationship, and, ‘Man, I wish it was different,’” Owen says. “But I also love the straight-up honesty of a man saying, ‘It was my fault, I’m a fool.’ I think that brings a lot of honesty to the album.” “Chill of December” kicks off growling and swaggery, belying its sorrowful core. “This past Christmas was the first Christmas that I spent without my little girls,” he says. “When you don’t have the people you love with you, it makes those moments a lot harder.”

Owen dips into Jerry Lee Lewis’ catalogue next with the wryly hilarious “Middle Age Crazy,” which he chose to cover because “I just always loved the story of a guy who’s lived the life he should have lived. And he’s kind of done everything he’s supposed to, but he hits this middle-aged point in his life where he wants to make a change and prove that he still can.” “The One I Did It To,” though, is a lullaby-esque look at everything a man like that has lost. “All the stuff that I did is also the reason why they don’t want to be with me anymore,” Owen says. The hang-dog “You’d Think” continues in that vein, seeing him grappling with making those same mistakes over and over again.

The sun comes out again, though, on “Wrinkle in the Road,” a shot of cold water on a dusty day. “This journey has been a bit rocky from time to time,” Owen says. “It’s also been absolutely beautiful. Sometimes it’s not the end of the road, you know, it’s just a wrinkle in it.” It all wraps up, then, with the sing-along sayonara, “So Long, L.A.,” a return to Nashville. A joyful homecoming. “I chased this idea. We fulfilled it,” Owen says of the track and record. “I’m now heading home to play it for my friends and the people that love my music.” But not before dropping an old voice memo to Shooter, gushing about music and dreams.

Now, it’s time to share those dreams with family, friends, and fans — some of whom have already heard a track or two. “All my friends who have heard my stuff have gone, ‘Dude, Jake, this is you man. This is who you’ve always tried to be,’” Owen says. “Sometimes you need to get outside what’s comfortable, what people think you are, or think you should be, and take a risk.”