John Fogerty is responsible for some of the strongest and most durable music of the 1960s.
As leader of Creedence Clearwater Revival, he created songs that quickly became the soundtrack of a generation. The music of CCR became a kind of musical shorthand to express the collective psyche of a generation – its aspirations, frustrations, joys and sorrows – delivered in the form of concise, accessible and remarkably memorable pop songs.
In less than four years, the band from El Cerrito, California – originally Fogerty plus brother Tom on guitars, plus the rhythm section of Stu Cook (bass) and Doug "Cosmo" Clifford (drums) – released seven albums. All but one of those would go platinum, and CCR landed 12 of its songs on Billboard’s singles chart. The band's 1970 album Cosmo's Factory was inducted into the GRAMMY Hall of Fame in 2014.
CCR dissolved bitterly in 1972; a half-century-plus later, those rifts haven’t healed and the band has never staged a reunion. For many years post-CCR, Cook and Clifford co-led Creedence Clearwater Revisited, bringing the music of their old band to audiences who never stopped loving it. John Fogerty, the band's principal songwriter, went years without playing any of his Creedence songs in concert. Notwithstanding the pain of the group’s dissolution, his primary bone of contention was the poor manner with which he believed his old label, Fantasy Records, treated him and his body of work.
A decades-long succession of business battles took a toll on Fogerty, both financially and emotionally. He eventually moved on with a successful solo career, one that follows on musically from the work he did with Creedence Clearwater Revival. Fogerty took home his first golden gramophone at the 1998 GRAMMYs for Blue Moon Swamp, which won Best Rock Album.
Fogerty’s music of the 21st century both celebrates and revisits his work of the ‘60s and 1970s. His latest album, Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years (out Aug. 22 via Concord Records) finds him re-recording many of his classics, this time working with members of his family. Now, after a 2023 arrangement in which he has gained a majority stake in the worldwide publishing rights of his Creedence-era music, John Fogerty is still singing songs that get to the heart of an American generation.
But getting to a place – both emotionally, and in the context of business and legal wrangling – where he could again tackle those songs brought with it memories of a long and contentious road. Fogerty spoke with GRAMMY.com about the metaphorical battle scars he still bears and the enduring significance of those songs – both to listeners and to him as a songwriter.
The music of Credence Clearwater Revival continues to serve as a cultural shorthand for the ‘60s and early ‘70s. Why do you think that your music with Credence is so evocative of the zeitgeist of that era?
Well, of course, I’m the guy who wrote all the songs and arranged all the music. The words are mine, and I guess you might say that the imagery is mine. It’s taken me a long time to realize that and say it unashamedly, but that’s a whole different story.
Anyway, I was very tuned into the times. I was a young man in my early 20s; I turned 23 in 1968. So as young people tend to be, I was very tuned into the "radio transmissions" – I'm saying that metaphorically – of the time as I became an adult. So those things were very pure and important to me.
Obviously I had loved music, and had wanted to have a place in music my whole life, never knowing if I was going to be good enough or not. But suddenly I was there, able to make really concise songs and concise music that spoke to my heart, at least. And it ended up that what I was tuned into was pretty much what a lot of people were tuned into.
Because of its resonance and relevance, Creedence’s music has been used in countless films and television programs, in what we now call sync. Is it true that for a very long time you didn’t benefit financially from any of that? Or at least not to the degree you felt you should have?
The simple answer is yes. And beyond that, I had no control or say-so, because I did not own the copyright. Saul Zaentz and Fantasy Records owned the copyright. I didn’t have any say [regarding] the destiny of the songs and how they were used; that was very debilitating. My anger just grew over the years, even with the good uses of the songs. And there were many. But there were also some I objected to.
I ended up thinking that Fantasy said yes to everything, that there was absolutely no qualitative taste about it, that they just took the money. That was demeaning and maddening. Here I had created some wonderful works of art, only to be treated that way and even scorned by the people at Fantasy.
It was just such a horrible feeling; I never got over that feeling. I’m sure that they cheated me in ways that I probably couldn’t understand or prove.
From the perspective of a fan and a listener, it’s strange to witness when art is considered a commodity…
Well, that’s an interesting thing. I grew up totally believing in music as art. When I’d hear a great record like Bob Dylan’s "Blowin’ in the Wind," or a great performance by Peter, Paul and Mary, it would just thrill my soul. If someone came to me [back then] and said, "You know, that song didn’t earn a penny," I would have looked at the person and said, "Well, that doesn’t matter; it’s a great song."
That was really all that counted to me. I didn’t have room to understand the so-called business part until years and years later. Probably in my 60s! Before then, I was still acting like a 12-year-old. I’m sure I upset more than one record company person, even as a grown up, just thinking of music as art. Not only were my feelings very pure about art, but also I [felt] victimized. And I felt that way for a long time.
I’m telling you this now, because now a lot of things have changed. One of which was: turning 80 years old, you decide to tell yourself, I don’t care how bad it is, because nothing matters as much as waking up every day and enjoying life. How much of it you have left to spend is the most important thing. And that’s not quantified in money at all; no one can do anything about the time thing just because they have a lot of money.
But sometime in my 70s, I started to acknowledge, Well, those guys don’t want to spend money on this thing in case they won’t get their money back. Yeah, I guess I can kind of see that. It was the first time I began to understand a record company’s point of view about things. That doesn’t mean I agree, but at least I can understand where they’re coming from.
You alluded to this from an artistic perspective. There have been times when your music has been used in film or TV in ways that made sense creatively. Financial considerations aside, have there been times when you were pleased with the way that a song was used?
Oh, I think there have been a few. Obviously there have been so many Vietnam movies. All you have to say is "Fortunate Son," and people think, I see a helicopter going over the jungle in Vietnam. I don’t know which movie that is; it’s probably all of them! It was done so often that it became almost comic.
Speaking of "Fortunate Son," Donald’s Trump’s recent military/birthday parade in Washington D.C. used – not the Creedence recording but – a karaoke version of the song. Had you heard about that?
Yes, a good friend texted me about it. I remember my very first instinct, and you can probably take this a bunch of ways. I watched just a few seconds of the parade. I was trying to tune in the Yankees game and crossed the parade [broadcast] a couple of times. I was sort of shocked, surprised and struck dumb. And I just thought to myself, John, that’s kind of an important moment here in America, and your song’s involved. And I felt really personally proud of that moment, if that makes any sense. I’m not saying it was good or bad or anything at all. Just the fact that "Fortunate Son" was part of it was pretty amazing to me. So as those service members were marching and being presented in the parade, I’m very proud of that association there.
One thing I do want to clearly say out loud is this: I am a veteran. I’m a former Army Reserve member. And therefore I support our troops – men and women of all services in America – simply because I was in the service myself. And that informed my personal perspective of "Fortunate Son" greatly. And all the reasons I wrote the song, of course, are out there, too; I want to be very clear about that.
But there are a lot of different emotions connected. I know that Mr. Trump has used "Fortunate Son" before, during his campaigns and things. I actually sent a cease-and-desist letter in 2020. So that sentiment is still out there. And I’ve talked a lot about all of that and my personal politics; it’s all available online, so I don’t really have to repeat it.
And as usual, I am wondering a little bit: Who was responsible [for using the song in the parade]? Because there’s a bit of a negative point of view about the comings and goings of the day in my song! And that’s the part that just makes you scratch your head.
Business-wise, things seem to have improved after Concord took control of the Fantasy catalog. Are all the loose ends settled to your satisfaction now, or is there still work to be done?
The greatest thing that remains – and I’m not holding my breath – would be for me to somehow be given ownership of the [Creedence] recorded masters. That [stipulation] certainly wasn’t in our contract in those days.
But I feel very fortunate indeed to have finally acquired a majority stake in the publishing for those songs that I wrote all those years ago. It took a long, long, very long time. It became so drawn out that I thought maybe it would never happen, even though I [felt] entitled to it. So I’m pretty happy about the publishing turn of events.
And it was totally because of my wife Julie. These things take someone with vision and energy and willingness to be slapped in the face a few times! I got tired of getting slapped in the face; I didn’t want to go to any more meetings where everybody sits down, everybody stands up and walks out the door and nothing happened. But Julie kept going, and by god, now I own the publishing. And that’s wonderful.
Beyond the business and even the ethical side of things, how did not having the rights to your own material affect you as a creative artist for all those years?
It was very hurtful and heartbreaking. It knocked me down; I will admit it. It made me feel forlorn, abandoned, betrayed.
I was kept at bay, intentionally. The more I struggled trying to get recognition for what I had created – that I was the person who put those words and music together, who invented those songs and records – the more there were forces trying to erase me from my own work. That was a very conscious effort done by Fantasy Records.
They didn’t like the idea of John Fogerty trying to connect himself to "Proud Mary." As far as the business sense of it, the record label just wants to sell Creedence, Creedence, Creedence, because that’s what the public understands. They don’t want somebody being a fly in the ointment and spoiling the pretty picture here.
So I was very much knocked down or separated. In many cases, they refused to even acknowledge in the packaging that I was the songwriter. When they did the "Albert Hall" packaging of a concert that was done 55 years ago [mislabeled; actually recorded in Oakland, California], they were celebrating all these wonderful songs by this band. And nowhere on the packaging did it note my name as songwriter. That pissed me off! And every time they’d put out another package, I would raise my head and try to talk about it. For obvious reasons, I ended up looking pretty tense and bitter.
But around the millennium, I was talking to one of the guitar magazines. I read the article later, and I thought, Ooh, John, you look really harsh and bitter. And strident. I didn’t like it at all. I told myself, John, you better dummy up. This just doesn’t look good. So I ended up in a position where I say nothing, and I don’t feel better. But if I do say something, then I really look bad.
[But] Life went on. My beautiful wife and I and my family went on, and I learned to just let it flow. As I was getting older, the more I realized, John, don’t spoil the whole rest of your life with all this crap. Here’s the real thing, right in front of you. And then, lo and behold, this wonderful thing with the publishing happened. So I’m truly blessed at this point.
The new album features songs you wrote a half century ago. Do you still write, and does new music come to you easily?
Well, I wish it came more easily. In 2020, I wrote the song "Weeping in the Promised Land." That was actually the second version of that song; there was even a recording before that – a little bit different, an earlier version of the song. The song itself was evolving, and it did not come easy.
Let me say it this way. I wrote the title down in my little songbook more than 35 years ago. And when I wrote down the title "Weeping in the Promised Land," all I could see in my heart and in my mind’s eye was something very sad. I didn’t even understand it, but I knew it was profoundly sad, like something apocalyptic from the Bible.
I wrote that first version and it was not near complete. I finally wrote a more complete version just before the pandemic. When the pandemic finally hit and we understood what it was, I knew that I was on to something.
The lockdown hadn’t happened yet. And as the events unfolded, each day got more scary. One day I was watching [the news], and my title, "Weeping in the Promised Land," kind of went across my mind again. I stopped and I realized that was connected to this pandemic. It was about now. That gave me a great big chill as I realized, John, the events finally caught up with the words. It’s come to pass; here we are.
It was such an awful time. We were all scared to death; this thing was killing people. We didn’t know how to protect our families. I remember those early days; I ran down [to the store] to get some Lysol or whatever, and it was already all gone. The smart people had already been to Walmart and had emptied the shelves. I got sad.
And I remember looking around at all the other people in the store; we all had masks. I look at the people and they’re looking at me, and we are all scared of each other; there’s fear in everybody’s eyes, because we don’t know what this thing is. It’s the most chilling thing to fear your fellow man: Oh my god, I’ve got to get out of here. That guy is going to make me die!
So that whole chilling thing became my motivation. I said, John, you can only accept that song if you indeed are going to really write that song. You can’t just make some simple thing. You realize if you’re going to take this on, then you have to commit your being. And I must tell you, it was probably six months of daily struggle over those words.
And you know, that’s that thing. I had it in the old days. And I still do when I kick myself like this. And that’s the best kind of song: "You don’t get to come out of this until that damn thing is done right."