Tag Archives: Creedence Clearwater Revival

Never Any Clapton, Part 3 – Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival

“It’s the economy, stupid”

That’s what political strategist and Bill Clinton campaign manager James Carville said when asked what made John Fogerty a great guitar player.*

Economy – that is to say, careful use of resources – is pretty much the defining characteristic of Fogerty’s Creedence-era music. In this, the band was utterly unlike its peers from across the bay (the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane and so on), who lived to draw things out on stage, to explore their material from every angle over 10, 15, 20 minutes. Creedence on the whole got in and got out again quickly, and Fogerty was disinclined to include anything in a song that didn’t have to be there. OK, the band had their extended moments (most famously the 11-minute recording of I Heard it Through the Grapevine, but  I think the 4-minute edit with only one solo is self-evidently superior), but Fogerty’s songs are largely pared down to the bone: 2- and 3-minute affairs with two verses and three choruses, usually without a middle eight, and an arrangement based on little more than two guitars, bass and drums.

Guitar solos, too, are rarer than you’d think in Creedence’s music, and often they’re just a few bars long. A couple of bars of through-composed melody (semi-chordal or  pentatonic) to provide a change of feel or texture prior to the final verse or chorus.

A key solo in the Fogerty canon, partly because it was from a relatively early single and partly because it’s so illustrative of his style on so many CCR songs, is the solo from Proud Mary.

There’s a little lick that guitarists love. With your index finger, you play a triad on the same fret across the D, G and B strings (that is, the way you play an A chord), then add your middle finger on the one fret up on the B and your ring finger two frets up on the D. This gives you a triad a fourth above your base chord. You can use hammer-ons and pull-offs to give you all kinds of melodies – single note, double stop or triad- based. You can play this lick starting on any fret, so it works in any key. It’s in innumerable Keith Richards riffs. It’s the beginning of Robbie Robertson’s intro to The Weight. It’s the Rebel Rebel riff, the Block Buster riff. It’s everywhere.

Two thirds of the Proud Mary solo is just playing around with these ideas. The key isn’t the notes Fogerty plays, it’s the rhythm of them, especially when he plays melodic ornamentations like that sliding double stop and that delightful little hoppedy-skippedy tune that comprises the second half of the solo. He’s not just playing straight sixteenth notes or eighth notes with no swing or syncopation; Fogerty absorbed too much from Chuck Berry and Little Richard for that. With him, rhythm is always key, whether he’s soloing or not.

CCR

*I jest, of course. I’ve no idea what kind of music Carville is into. But he lives in New Orleans, so maybe he does like a bit of Creedence. After all, no band from California ever sounded more authentically Lousianian than CCR.

 

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Long as I Can See the Light – Creedence Clearwater Revival

Creedence Clearwater Revival remain as cool as they come. I’ve never met anyone with a bad word to say about them. They managed to make something hugely difficult look very easy: they had an instantly recognisable core sound, built on the most basic garage-band foundations, but their music reached out in all kinds of directions – to the blues, to soul, country, psychedelia, hard rock – all at the same time. They could be anything they wanted, yet were always themselves too. Down on the Corner, one of the band’s most exuberant moments, was a double A side with Fortunate Son, probably the group’s angriest. Think on that pair of songs for a moment.*

John Fogerty’s vision for his music was clear-headed and allied to a single-minded, relentless work ethic that, at least initially, the whole band shared: four albums in two years, three in 1969 alone (one of them called, not coincidentally, Cosmo’s Factory). Their singles were always hits, and in an almost unique achievement for a white rock band, they were R&B hits as well as pop hits. As Marcello Carlin put it in his write-up of Cosmo’s Factory, “Fogerty’s men spoke to the working man but the beauty about Creedence’s brief fire is that they were everyone’s group; the truck drivers, the waitresses, the troops, the students – none could find anything in their music that didn’t communicate with them or stir up something deep and important within them.”

The more I listen to Creedence, the more I hear Long as I Can See the Light as the quintessential CCR song, in that best it demonstrates the band’s soulfulness and their resourcefulness, their ability to realise their vision all by themselves. Slow and bluesy, its arrangement is dominated by Fogerty’s Fender Rhodes, moaning horns and his white-soul holler (which gets into stratospheric Robert Plant territory during the third verse: “But I won’t, won’t…“), but contains a delightful surprise in a saxophone solo halfway through, played of course by Fogerty, showing his skill on the instrument went further than the sustained notes he holds in the verses (or the endearingly out of tune honks on Travelin’ Band). Like everything else about Fogerty’s music – which constitutes, as Carlin argued, some sort of Grand Unifying Theory of American music – it’s just so entirely without bullshit or fuss.

Creedence2
Creedence: John Fogerty left

*Possibly only Yellow Submarine/Eleanor Rigby contains a wider emotional range than this double A.