War is raw. Peace maybe a little less so - unless maybe you are trying to wage it - [see Kent State]. Perhaps that's why this song reverberates for me. I can't think of a single one of CCR's songs that doesn't come across as raw. Maybe it had to do with the tonal qualities of electric guitars in those days. Maybe it was John Fogerty. Maybe it was the 70s.
Like the majority of musicians in 1970x John Fogerty had little intention of going to Vietnam (he joined the Reserves in order to get around this). Like country Joe Fish, Fogerty made his opinion verbal. Do not equate this with a lack of patriotism - quite the opposite. It is one of your rights to state your opposition (to the extent that it doesnt harm others and doesn't <break the law>). Singing about is is an even better way to be patriotic.
In the clip above, Springsteen attests to the seminal influence of John Fogerty. He's right. So so right, that some other musicians you may have heard about went off and set up a band named Willie and the Poor Boys (a direct take from the album on which this song came out) - the members include Bill Wyman, Charlie Watts, Andy Fairweather-Low and more. Not a bad legacy, like the "Boss" says.
see:
The <Fortunate Son> lyrics say a lot about being a patriot, and there is a consideration of the limits:
I ain't no senator's son ( that is pretty clear -I think we are talking bone spurs here)
But when the taxman comes to the door Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes (sounds like someone's secret tax returns)
and, he sings, he's speaking his mind (saying his peace/piece) because
I ain't no millionaire's son, no
here's a little more from <CCR> for old times' sake ...
I have generally worked with the assumption that most basic (pop) songs are based on the the I-IV-V progression. And it's true: songs such as She Loves You, Twistin' the Night Away and If You're Happy and You Know It are all essentially variations of the I-IV-V standard.
And then, just the other night, I watched a performance from a group of exceptionally talented vocalists, who maintained a I-I-I progression (if progression it can be called) for minutes on end.
That's essentially a "drone" - and what became apparent to me- in terms of viability/interest - was what the musician overlays the "static" backup with - for example, a soaring solo in the same key - is what really makes the song.
There would seem to be a major element of jazz/experiment behind this: classic pop, it's not.
Unless the song becomes a (popular) hit.
So ... How to work in the role of a basic bass line that moves around, but is limited to a single note/<chord> and is part of a major hit?
A bit of a quandary. But it's been done. More than once. Aretha's "Chain of Fools" is one such.
Here's another: kind of the epitome of making the most of what (little) you got: a single chord.
But it works perfectly well. Makes me wonder if the Doors didn't do something similar?
Judging from our output on the ON/OFF theme, you would be inclined to agree with Darius, that the pickings are slim. Actually, my standard process for a theme is to see what Songfacts.com lists for a particular phrase, and for "on" it shows 1976 possible avenues to explore.
Like of lot of other teens in the late 60s early 70s, I listened to a lot of Creedence. CCR had a ton of hits between 69 and 70. Heck, they were one of the headline bands at Woodstock. And then they disappeared in a mist of acrimony,
I havent listened to them much since, so it's mildly entertaining to see that the band are still touring 50 years later, albeit under the name Creedence Clearwater Revisited without John Fogerty, who - incidentally - also still performs. On and on they go. Apparently quite successfully: one review claims that at a recent concert he witnessed "timeless, historical music performed to perfection.."
Looking back, I have to say I'm not sure quite why I "liked" their music. That said, I recognize that they had a unique sound and their hits like Susie Q, Willy and the Poor Boys, Proud Mary, Bad Moon Rising, and more - a remarkable number of major hits in such a short time - are rightfully part of the pantheon of essential rock.
There must have been something to their success regardless of what Jon Landau's critique of their final album as "the worst album I have ever heard from a major rock band". You can decide for yourself if it stands the test of time:
OK, I admit it. I last posted a track in this series that was released on Epic records, and now, in further blatant disregard, here I am posting a song from 60s Motown. My excuse? Hell, it was a long time ago and no-one will really remember, except those annoying pedants who always delight in the elementary nature of my errors. So, screw you, cos this is the ultimate Motown, and my bete noir of the label, keeping my teenage tastes in music off the number 1 slot for nearly as long as the Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Lord, Mr Marvin Gaye, did I hate you when I was, um, 10, many years of (sexual?) healing having to occur before I could take you to my, um, bosom. But, time, as ever, is the wiser, and 1967's I Heard it through the Grapevine is really an absolute corker, one of a playlist I will always include one or other version of within.
So Gaye's version is pretty unbeatable? (You've heard it, right?) Hmm, maybe so. But there are a whole lot more inventions around that theme. So here's a trio that each dismantle, each reconfigure and each extrapolate way beyond the vision of Norman Whitfield, the producer. But did you know that it wasn't even the first choice Motown recording, with both Smokey Robinson's Miracles and Gladys Knight and the Pips having first dibs on the song?
Creedence Clearwater Revival always had a thing about soul, or was it that soul always had a thing about CCR. Fairly hot on the heels of "their" Proud Mary, covered so memorably by Ike and Tina Turner, 1970 saw their mammoth take on Grapevine.
In truth it adds little, beyond Fogerty's extraordinary diction, "hoyaid" it thru' the grapevine etc. A more extensive demolition/remolition had to wait until 1979 for the Slits. It is true that the vocals need a little tolerance on behalf of the listener to accept their dystonality, but, that apart, the arrangement is stunning, a spiky and skanky guitar, some frantic drums and a dub baseline, itself courtesy producer, UK reggae giant Dennis Bovell. I loved it so much I made the mistake of buying the album.
A completely different approach was taken by the UK folk club darlings of the mid 80s, Clive Gregson and Christine Collister, whose ballsy live take, on single acoustic guitar and voice was beefier than many a full blown orchestrated and/or electric version. A high point of their then shows, Gregson's masterclass guitar could double or triple the length of the song, spinning subtle excerpts of other songs mid picking. I still find this version astonishing. (There is talk of his reprising much of this much missed duo's work, with singer Liz Simcock, during this summer. Meanwhile Collister is back on the boards with Richard Thompson, for a special at this years Cropredy festival.)
So, dare you really say this wa s song unworthy of inclusion, if only for reason of accuracy? Shame on you.
A pair of weather-related tunes from the great Creedence Clearwater Revival: Have You Ever…and Who’ll Stop…The Rain.
One of the great rock bands of the 1960s, the defining term rock being used here to delineate music of that era that is unadulterated by the tripping trappings of psychedelic flower power, and paying homage back to blues and folks roots. Creedence’s output was backbone straight front porch swinging country-blues-folk tinged rock, a pure specimen in an experimental time. Troubled by forces from within and without, CCR didn’t last nearly as long as they should have, but what they put out stands as the litmus test for the pure and good in rock ‘n roll.
I struggle with this blog sometimes—should I be trying to unearth rare gems, from unknown and unsung bands, and give them some exposure, or is it OK to dwell in the past and give the sometimes all to familiar and taken for granted a fresh listen? I don’t have an answer for that quandary. I do love going back and really digging into a song though, even when it is one I've heard so often that it has become a comforting background soundtrack rather than a song that gives one pause.
Who’ll Stop the Rain and Have You Ever Seen the Rain are songs that you know, that you can sing along to, that you’ve heard a million times or more as staples of classic rock radio. When I did a Spotify search for “Who’ll Stop the Rain”, it was amazing how many times it has been covered, and in so many different styles. So what is there to say about the songs we’ve heard over and over? The universality of songs like these two from CCR strikes me as something worth nothing and exploring. Even if you’ve heard a song it is worth taking another listen. Sometimes, it’s not about shedding new light so much as appreciating a song by rehearing it, giving it a bit of an investigatory listen with a finely conditioned ear.
Released exactly one year apart, let’s look first at Who’ll Stop the Rain. This is a classic rock/folk ballad, and it listens like alt-country before alt-country was really a thing. Lyrically, Who’ll Stop the Rain takes on the classic form of a lament. And while it doesn’t delve into the realm of intense grief or mourning, there is sadness to this song about answers that haven’t arrived or appeared, despite the nature of the search and the fact that the search has lasted for what might be a lifetime. Despite its lack of clarity, there is universality of optimism giving way to sadness that speaks to the era it was written in. One can’t help but hear the song as a reference to the broken optimism of the 1960’s flower power and peace movement. The ‘60s are great to look at as a sweeping social movement—the changes that were wrought from turbulent times were amazing and I think the power of the times reverberates to this day. But (and I am saying this as someone who wasn’t part of that generation, so I’m no expert), it seems that certain influences—drugs being the chief one—corrupted that movement and took from it a certain power that it had to make generation-spanning changes. But, that’s just my opinion. The '70s followed the '60s Followed by the '80s, to the '90s to now…times change, but the course of human events (wars, crime, poverty) follows the same sad course…maybe the world is just meant to be that way. Still, maybe I am looking too hard at the song, asking it to be something it’s not. It’s an imagistic little fable, and maybe it’s just talking about the weather?
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band traditionally open outdoor shows with the song when it is raining. I saw Bruce on the Wrecking Ball Tour in Munich, Germany a few years ago, and it was a frigid, rainy day in May. I was milling around outside the stadium, thinking I had plenty of time to get into my seats, when I heard the opening chords of “Who’ll Stop the Rain” and realized—holy crap! Bruce is on stage! The rain did not stop that evening, and it was the coldest show I’ve ever been to. They did do Born In The USA from top to bottom as a thank you for coming out in the rain—pretty incredible.
1971’s Have You Ever Seen The Rain, from Pendulum, is yet another fittingly glum track that explores the melancholy that so often accompanies images of the rain. This track is a little more straightforward in terms of interpretation. It has been written that the song is a lament, again, but one directly related to the “fading idealism” of the 60s, that I talked about earlier.
But, John Fogarty himself has said that the song is about the tension in CCR that led to Tom, his brother, leaving the band. Also central as a theme is the well-documented fact that despite their popularity and success in the charts, CCR were still miserable. The most revealing line is simple, and as a metaphor, it doesn’t have to work too hard to get the point across: “Have you ever seen the rain/ Coming down on a sunny day.” Not exactly TS Elliot, but then profundity need not be draped in mystery.
CCR were a troubled band, despite being famous and achieving their rock n roll dreams. It’s been sung about before—fame and riches do not guarantee happiness. The sentiment, that it is sometimes hard to be happy despite the obvious reason one should be, is a universal idea. Fans and critics tend to jump all over ‘whiny rock stars’ for complaining about finding the troubling side to the dream the rest of us would give up anything to achieve (think Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder). Yet, those most vocal about the sobering reality of a dream come true are the voices we tend to sing along with the most.
I think certain songs, because they give utterance to the feelings we all share, but don’t always admit to, are all the more popular because they can speak for us. And we can sing along, which means we don’t have to talk about it…
John and Tom Fogerty had not settled their differences in 1990 when Tom passed away from AIDS, the disease a result of a tainted blood transfusion during back surgery. Their falling out occurred due to Tom's 'lack of opportunity', he felt his contributions were overlooked and brother John had too much control over the band. Tom left the band in 1971 during the recording of Pendulum.
Formerly known as The Golliwogs, the band became Creedence Clearwater Revival when in 1967 they were offered a full length LP record deal, but only if they changed their name. Tom Fogerty's friend Credence Newball (adding an extra 'e' so as to resemble creed, or faith), 'clear water' from an Olympia beer TV commercial, and 'revival' so as to renew the commitment to the band, are the elements that made up the band name. John Fogerty penned 'Wrote A Song For Everyone' after a tiff with his wife, though it seems it could apply, at least in part, to his relationship with his brother as well. He was quoted in an interview about the song, "But there I was, the musician manic and possessed the only guy holding things up. Without me, it all collapses, so I'm feeling quite put upon. As she walks out the door, I say to myself, I wrote a song for everyone, and I couldn't even talk to you."
Actually posted by Bert, with my assistance due to technical difficulties
Does civic responsibility include the idea of putting one's very body in service to the country? Some cultures believe so; nations from Israel to Iraq, and from Mexico to Mongolia, mandate military service for young people as a basis for citizenship (though each defines eligibility distinctly -- Israel is relatively rare, for example, in conscripting both men and women).
In cultures where drafting is historically normative, military service is seen as natural and unquestioned, a matter of civic pride. But in countries where a draft is not normative, creating one does not suddenly create an accompanying cultural buy-in. Rather, drafts in special circumstances cause special problems, especially when the culture is ideologically divided about the reason for such a draft, or in situations where the perception in culture is that the rubric for eligibility is either inherently unfair, or not being applied fairly.
The best and most recent example of this latter case in United States history is surely Vietnam. Where the previous World Wars had established a sense that the draft was necessary, because our enemies were perceived as a direct threat to us, the United States had trouble justifying what appeared to be a civil war in an uncivilized country as an imminent threat worthy of conscription. It didn't help that such service, especially in the midst of the unpopular war of Vietnam, was seen as something which was not being applied as an equal standard to all members of all classes in the culture.
Many popular songs of the sixties and seventies would speak to the various complex of perceived injustices that followed from US involvement in Vietnam, but few as eloquently or as angrily addressed this issue of civic injustice as Fortunate Son, a 1969 Creedence Clearwater Revival hit written in the voice of a draftee who -- being neither the son of a Senator, a millionaire, or a military leader -- is no "fortunate son", and thus has no choice but to head off to war to protect those fortunate ones. Also included: three very recent covers, all released within the last year or so, which strip the song down into something more plaintive and reflective. In fact, the Todd Snider cover just came out this week; if you like it, act now, because like the rest of his new 8-song EP Peace Queer, it's only going to be available as a freebie until the end of the month.
Best known for its Zinfandel, Lodi is a mid-sized town in California’s Central Valley. Although John Fogarty had never actually been to Lodi, he picked it to be the setting for his famous tribute to a stalled musical career because of its "cool" sounding name. Good reason.
The man from the magazine said I was on my way Somewhere I lost connections, ran out of songs to play I came into town, a one night stand Looks like my plans fell through Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again . . .
I read an article once about the early years of CCR, but I can't find it anymore. It was sort of a sad story, as I remember it, because the original band was fronted by John Fogerty's older brother Tom. Tom was the one who originally wanted to be a rock star. He was the one who practiced day and night learning the guitar. He wrote the music. He managed the band. He had the dream. I don't remember the details, but at some point John started writing songs and occasionally singing. Things came much more naturally and easily to John. His vastly superior talent slowly but surely overshadowed that of his brother, causing a rift between the two and resulting in Tom taking a (distant) background position in the band. Of course, Tom left CCR in 1971 effectively destroying the band.
Maybe I'm too sentimental, but I really feel sorry for old Tom.
I wish I could find my source material for this story. I hope I didn't misrepresent any of it. If so, feel free to correct me.
The featured track gives very good advice: Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself. This track was ripped from vinyl to MP3, so the quality may be less than perfect. I should probably replace all of my old CCR records with CD's, but I have never really had a need to.
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