Changes to band names and genre stylings feel far more rapid for bands of the 1960s. There was a scramble to take up space on the airwaves, to cement a name for themselves as they rallied around one another in a studio, somewhere in a town nobody had yet heard of, like El Cerrito. A perfect place for Creedence Clearwater Revival to pull influence from, a village formed by refugees in the wake of an earthquake. This self-titled effort has a spirit of adapting no matter the cost to it, the band at the brink of what would be a career-defining work. Not just because it put them on the map, but because they were rolling out a new sound while riding a wave of change. Instrumental bliss from the first note to the last second is what you can get on Creedence Clearwater Revival’s debut. It’s not got the hits of their later albums, but it does have the energy, the adrenaline-pumping thrills of a drum beat like I Put a Spell On You are enough.
Flickers of brilliance only happen when the core of a song is great. Plenty of that on Creedence Clearwater Revival, an album that has a confident band given that little course correction. They had the songs, the instrumental skill, but what they needed was the direction that comes with as little a change as a new name or fresh genre styling. You can hear that glorious John Fogerty vocal style come through on The Working Man, an excellent song but one that doesn’t quite grasp the strengths of political commentary that would come in the band’s best-known works. But that’s the point. This is the start of a bright, burning journey for Fogerty and the band. Creedence Clearwater Revival’s album is lighter than what was to follow, but it still has the instrumental flourishes necessary. Susie Q may be the big hit of the time but it pales when compared to the rest of the material here. A not-so-subtle love song backed by tremendous guitar riffs.
Creedence Clearwater Revival may rightly hold a status as legendary, but the more you listen in, the more you learn about the songs, the clearer it becomes that Fogerty is a musical mastermind. His understanding of not just lyrical pertinence but the instrumental flavour of the times goes well beyond what the average performer was doing. He is up there with Paul McCartney and Brian Wilson when it comes to the sheer quality of his work around this period. The Summer of Love may have been riding high, the LSD trips and psychedelic fever with a firm grip in place, but this self-titled effort is a display of Fogerty at his best. Moaning, groaning, and roaring with a fire that he still kindles decades on, Ninety-Nine and a Half (Won’t Do) is a delightful example of this.
What follows is a collection of strong rock and roll with that classic, swampy sound which would be adapted into a range of roaring protest tracks and tender ballads about the implosion of the band. Fogerty is the lead on all those magical moments, especially the tense and often foreboding Gloomy, a song where the title is a bit of a giveaway but the strength of the track is undeniable. Album closer Walk on the Water is a staggering piece of work. Some forward-thinking production is what brings it all together, but the core of the song, its message of finding the fear in what should be tranquil places, is mesmerising. Creedence Clearwater Revival brings about a phenomenal range, kickstarting what would be one of the most incredible rock music legacies of all.
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