Amid explosions and flying bodies, it was a moment for a generation—the classic rock generation—to cherish. Flash back to 2007’s Live Free or Die Hard, when Bruce Willis’ John McClane turns up “Fortunate Son” on the car radio, waking up his young passenger who, annoyed, asks what it is.
“It’s Creedence—Creedence Clearwater Revival,” McClane says to the upstart, who makes a snotty retort—causing McClane to turn it up full blast. Later, after blowing away the baddies, it plays over the closing credits—a hero’s theme.
“Wow! Really?” says Creedence legend John Fogerty, who never saw the film. “That’s something. The executives, producers, they don’t tell me these things.”
We’re happy to clue in the singer/songwriter/guitar great, who’s about to pull off something even more unlikely than gracing an action flick—the blues-and-bayou-based rocker is landing in flashy, sassy Las Vegas for an extended run at The Venetian.
Odd musical hookup? “The time is right for this,” Fogerty says. “I enjoy the vibe, the uniqueness. It reminds you of all the great entertainers of days gone by, starting with Sinatra. That’s quite a challenge to live up to. It’s just a really cool thing to do.”
Titled Fortunate Son in Concert, the Vegas show expands on Fogerty’s 1969 tour launched in 2014, which celebrated the year Creedence released the albums Bayou Country, Green River and Willy and the Poor Boys. “That tour was the first time we had a bit of production, with video and commentary and stories happening,” says Fogerty, who’ll insert other Creedence tunes, plus solo hits “The Old Man Down the Road” and “Centerfield,” among others.
“That sort of format is what we’ve retained. Rather than just playing a song—which is always fine—but adding more depth to the experience without hitting people over the head with too much smoke and mirrors is kind of cool.”
Putting Fogerty back on the national radar is his memoir, Fortunate Son. Journeying through the entirety of his eventful life, the book is particularly notable for his candor regarding his acrimonious breakup with the rest of Creedence—Stu Cook, Doug Clifford, and brother Tom Fogerty (who died 25 years ago)—and his nightmarish battles with Fantasy Records. Failing to consult an attorney, the band inked a grossly unfair contract that gave Fantasy complete ownership of Creedence compositions—with zero royalties.
Decades of bad blood followed—compounded by angry lawsuits and professional jealousies to the point that, 21 years after their 1972 disbanding, the band members refused to perform together at Creedence’s 1993 induction at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
“The worst thing that ever happened to my band was The Beatles, because the guys in my band thought they could be The Beatles,” Fogerty writes in Fortunate Son about them wanting to assume more songwriting responsibilities, believing Fogerty exercised excessive creative control. “These guys had no clue about what was necessary—a vision.”
Even though Fogerty wanted his recollections on record in his book, the poison, he says, has dissipated. At least on his end.
“In writing the book, I realized there’s a lot of stuff I’ve gone through but I’m pretty proud of how I responded to the challenges,” says Fogerty, who practically coos with serenity when talking about life with his second wife, Julie, and their family. “I wasn’t going to let it change my values. I stayed true to myself. That gives me peace of mind.”
Through it all, at least musically and creatively, Fogerty has always lived free. And that will die very, very hard.
The Venetian, 8 p.m. Jan. 13, 15-16, 20 & 22-23, starting at $59.50 plus tax and fee. 702.414.9000
