Someone once said if you could identify a singer three words into a song they'd probably be in the Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame. John Fogerty - singer, songwriter, guitarist and producer for Creedence Clearwater Revival in the late 60s and early 70s - was inducted into the Hall of Fame
(with his former, but estranged, band mates) in 1993.
It was long overdue: Fogerty's songs are usually identifiable from the opening riffs even before he opens his mouth.
At an impossibly youthful-looking and enthusiastically energised 60, Fogerty delivered hit after hit like some human jukebox to a capacity Civic crowd, which bayed with recognition at songs like Lodi and Travelin' Band, then danced in the aisles to Down on the Bayou and Bad Moon Rising.
When Fogerty kicked off Green River with a guitar sound he could patent, or the metaphorical Who'll Stop the Rain, you were reminded he is a songwriting genius.
Being identified as the man who first defined swamp rock (Bayou, Bootleg, Proud Mary) hardly does him justice. He also pulls in a distinctive take on soul (Heard It Through The Grapevine), old-time rock'n'roll (Centerfield starts like La Bamba and references Chuck Berry's Brown Eyed Handsome Man), funky country (Lookin' Out My Backdoor) and the blues (Midnight Special). It's fair to suggest Fogerty's evocative Americana anticipated The Band.
And he is an impressive lyricist ("wondrous apparitions provided by magicians") who - as he did on the anti-Vietnam/anti-privilege song Fortunate Son, given a blistering live treatment - still connects to his generation. His melancholy Deja Vu about the weary familiarity of the war in Iraq shifts from the writing on the wall to the writing at The Wall, a reference to the Vietnam memorial wall in Washington, DC.
But that is the serious stuff. Mostly the happy crowd was there to enjoy the rock spirit he effortlessly conjured up.
Every classic hits radio DJ should have been there forking out for their own tickets. This is the man whose readily identifiable songs have paid their wages for decades.
Long may he keep on chooglin'.
