A San Francisco Music Chronicle

CREEDENCE CLEARWATER REVIVAL

Discography


Important work in yellow

1968: Creedence Clearwater Revival. 1969: Bayou Country * Green River * Willy and the Poor Boys. 1970: Cosmos Factory * Pendulum. 1972: Mardi Gras * Creedence Gold. 1973: Live in Europe. 1976: Chronicle (Collection). 1981: Royal Albert Hall Concert.

John Fogerty Discography

 

1973: The Blue Ridge Rangers. 1975: John Fogerty. 1984: Centerfield. 1986: Eye of the Zombie. 1997: Blue Moon Swamp. 1998: Premonition. 2004: Deja Vu All Over Again.

John Fogerty has often been described as a nice, humble kinda guy. But Fogerty's great sin may have been the sin of pride, as he arrogantly carried himself as the spirit of rock past, which seems the sin of a reactionary. Considering Fogerty as the leader of the greatest American rock & roll band (circa the late sixties) suggests that he was at least somewhat innovative, perhaps even visionary, but both ideas are preposterous, even though Fogerty was operating at a time when visionaries and innovators abounded. The only visions Fogerty gleaned seem to be those he'd found in his obviously interesting record collection. Much has been made about Fogerty's avoidance of bad psychedelia, but what he offered in its place was often just as meaningless. Creedence's long string of gothic/voodoo songs influenced by the blues giants - "Gloomy," "Walk on Water," "Graveyard Train," "Tombstone Shadow," "Bad Moon Rising," "Sinister Purpose," "Hideaway," "Rude Awakening," "Run Through the Jungle," "Effigy," "I Put a Spell on You" - are, for the most part, B-movie melodrama with none of Fogerty's own blood in the tracks. "Bad Moon Risin'" is the most overrated and only "Run Through the Jungle," "Effigy" and "I Put a Spell On You" rise above opportunist recasting by setting foot in the real world of Vietnam, riots & political unrest (and thank Screaming Jay Hawkins for the harrowing, violent edge of "I Put a Spell on You," which, unlike the rest of Fogerty's pseudo-superstitious gibberish, is grounded in human interaction). Fogerty's assimilated personality carries over to "Born on the Bayou" (he wasn't), "Green River" (never been there), "Bootleg" (remember bootleggers?), "Don't Look Now, It Ain't You or Me" (speak for yourself, John). All of these songs could be passed off as well-written fiction, if Fogerty's focus on songwriting's bottom line allowed for the inclusion of details. "Proud Mary" is an exception to a lightweight evocation of things past; it's one of the few Fogerty songs that holds its own against more imaginative historical musings on albums by the Band, the Grateful Dead, Neil Young, Dylan, the Kinks, the Byrds, Procol Harum, Fairport Convention, Randy Newman and others. Given their skimpy narrative lines, Fogerty was smart enough to slur vocals on songs like "Sweet Hitch-Hiker," "Chameleon," and "Have you Ever Seen the Rain?" leaving at least an impression that something interesting might be getting put across.

Rolling Stone Album Guide had the temerity (and the usual bad taste) to call "Fortunate Son" and "Don't look Now (It Ain't You or Me)" "the most convincing political rock & roll done before the Clash." Anybody who has actually listened to the music of the sixties will be able to cite any number of convincing political songs written by bands that were committed to causes, rather than shunning causes as Fogerty did. "Don't Look Now" is an excruciatingly patronizing song that equates Fogerty's own lack of working credentials with what he presumes are everybody else's. "Fortunate Son" is one of Fogerty's few classics, but to believe it's credible simply because Fogerty wasn't a millionaire until he was twenty-four years old is missing the whole point of art and artifice, concept and action.

It should have been obvious during the paucity and repetitions of Green River, Creedence's third album, that the band needed to loosen up and invite some people over to the party. Fogerty's lead guitar playing peaked on the first three songs on the first album, and it hasn't been proven that he's learned any new licks since then. In many of Fogerty's songs the flamboyance of a simple overdub often called attention to itself next to the poverty of the company it was keeping; and, despite Fogerty's reputation for running a tight ship, his deconstructionist tendencies left large holes in songs often less that three minutes long. (Bruce Springsteen's description of Fogerty and CCR as "no frills" rock and roll is perplexing given the pointless wasted minutes of many of Fogerty's songs.) By the time Cosmos Factory rolled around, riddled as it was with bad song structures ("Ramble Tamble"), weak covers/filler ("Ooby Dooby," "My Baby Left Me." "I Heard It Through the Grapevine"), and rehashed material ("Up Around the Bend" is a weaker "Commotion"), it was probably inevitable that mutiny would set in: after the Captain's First Mate (rhythm guitarist Tom Fogerty) jumped ship, the deck hands (bassist Stu Cook and drummer Doug Clifford) yearned to share the wealth.

To his credit, Fogerty can sink a mean groove, if not elaborate from it. And at his best - on "Lodi," "Proud Mary," "Fortunate Son," "Effigy," "Run Through the Jungle," "Someday Never Comes," and "Looking Out My Back Door" - he gets what he's aiming for: simple, perfect beauty. Which still leaves Chronicle looking like a collection of good songs, not a collection of great songs.



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