John Fogerty’s Turn to Revisit Creedence (Part 1 of 3)

An edited version of this feature first appeared in Goldmine Magazine.

Widely acclaimed as the Great American Singles Band – and recipient of countless other well-deserved kudos – Creedence Clearwater Revival created some of the best rock music of its era. Forming first as Tommy and the Blue Velvets, and then trading for a time as The Golliwogs, the foursome from El Cerrito, California finally crystallized their trademark rootsy sound as CCR.

In the process, they captured the zeitgeist of an era with John Fogerty’s songs: “Proud Mary,” “Bad Moon Rising,” “Green River,” “Down on the Corner,” “Fortunate Son,” “Travelin’ Band,” “Run Through the Jungle,” “Who’ll Stop the Rain,” “Up Around the Bend,” “Lookin’ Out My Back Door,” “Have You Ever Seen the Rain,” “Sweet Hitch-Hiker” and many others. Remarkably, every single one of those aforementioned songs made it to the Top Ten on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart. The group was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1993.

CCR split acrimoniously in 1973; unlike other classic rock era bands who engaged in latter-day victory laps to capitalize on the nostalgia associated with their music, Creedence never did – and never will – reunite. But the legacy of the band’s music – and its place in American pop culture – is beyond dispute. And so each of the three surviving members (Tom Fogerty died in 1990) have continued to celebrate the music that they made between 1968 and 1972.

While the rhythm section of Stu Cook and Doug “Cosmo” Clifford provided one of music’s most rock-solid foundations, it was singer and guitarist John Fogerty who composed and sang all of the band’s original hit songs. Yet in the wake of decades-long battles with record company figures who arguably dealt him and his former CCR band mates a bad hand, Fogerty refused for many years to play any of his Creedence songs in concert.

Things began to change when Fogerty emerged from an extended period of writer’s block, reappearing with the juggernaut (and double Platinum-selling) Centerfield album in 1985. That album drew upon the spirit of CCR, infusing it with a modern sensibility; the result was a timeless record that continues to entertain today, four decades after its release.

Working determinedly, Fogerty eventually prevailed upon the owners of the Creedence Clearwater Revival catalog to cut him a better deal, and he has in recent years regained some control over his body of work. A happy by-product of those hard-won victories is that Fogerty began to come to terms with his CCR-era songs, even adding some of the tunes back into his live set.

Now in 2025 and at age 80, John Fogerty has come full circle. Today he has made a sort of peace with the record industry (if not with his estranged CCR band mates); he’s in a happy place. Prominent among his close musical associates are sons Shane and Tyler. And wife Julie Fogerty takes a major role in the business side of Fogerty’s enterprise. And the enduring legacy of Creedence looms large for the man: save for the stirring and heartfelt 2021 song “Weeping in the Promised Land,” most all of J.C. Fogerty’s musical endeavors in recent years have celebrated his CCR-era output.

John Fogerty’s latest release, Legacy is a 20-track, note-for-note recreation of many of CCR’s biggest hits and best-loved album tracks. Made with his current band (featuring his sons), that album is set for release August 22. Legacy finds Fogerty at once laying ghosts to rest and reminding listeners why his Creedence-era songs have the staying power that has made them part of several generations’ musical vocabulary. Ahead of the release of Legacy (and international tour dates in support of that album), John Fogerty sat down with me to discuss the project’s inspiration, its goals, and what the future might (or might not) hold.

In addition to writing the songs, playing guitar and singing lead, you produced all of the Creedence Clearwater Revival albums. The recordings on Legacy seem designed to duplicate not only the music but the arrangement and production aesthetics of those recordings from 50-plus years ago. Tell me about your goals in making the record.

Well, that was the goal, certainly going in. To my mind, the idea was to sound as close to the original recordings as possible. I asked myself, “Well, gee, do I want to make folk music versions of these songs, or hip hop versions of these songs?” Well, no. That [idea] was abandoned right away. “Proud Mary” should sound like “Proud Mary.” So it was as simple as that. As they say, even a thousand-mile journey begins with but one step. And taking that first step, you decide that you’re going to sound as close to the originals as possible.

And after taking not too many more steps, you realize that is going to be a lot harder than you probably thought. I already thought it was going to be hard, but it got harder. It rose to a very high level; this was my own personal standards again coming to the fore. I had to record a song – let’s say “Proud Mary” – and then listen [back] and be disappointed: “Gosh, that’s just not measuring up. That doesn’t make it.” I’d ask myself, “What’s the matter with that? That’s not good enough.” And trying to learn from that near-miss, you might say, “Okay, well, what do I gotta do to make this better?”

And a lot of times [that meant] throwing everything out and starting over. A whole lot of that, actually! And always with the idea that, “Well, because it’s got to be [raises hand up high] here.” And that just kept happening, and finally getting there. I remember [working on] one song, “Lodi.” All the parts were pretty much done. I sang a vocal, and came back in and listened to the recording. And I said [to myself], “Wow, that’s pretty damn good, John. Listen to that!”

In that case of “Lodi,” I was struck with the perspective that the guy who was now singing seemed to have. I [originally] sang that song when I was probably, oh, 23 years old. But it was about a guy who was probably a 42 year old Merle Haggard wannabe. I thought the my vocal on the original song hit it pretty good.

And now, here I was well past that. And hearing myself sing it, I thought, “I don’t know how you do that, John, but I can hear that you’ve experienced that song.” I could tell. I don’t know if other people will or won’t, but I heard it. I heard a grizzled old guy on a stage in a little bar in Lodi, and he really meant it. He wasn’t terrified; he wasn’t suicidal or anything. He wasn’t destitute, but he was certainly worn down by life. And I thought it was pretty cool.

Click here to continue…