When “Creedence Clearwater Revival” released the album “Mardi Gras” in April 1972, it was already a fractured band hanging by a thread. Tom Fogerty had walked away the previous year, unable to stomach the growing control his younger brother John exerted over the group’s direction.
But what followed was not just a creative rupture. It turned into one of the most bitter collapses in rock history, with lawsuits, betrayals, and decades of silence replacing the harmonies that once defined their success.
John Fogerty had written nearly every hit the band produced, from “Bad Moon Rising” (1969) to “Fortunate Son” (1969), and sang lead vocals on all of them. But Fantasy Records, led by Saul Zaentz, owned the publishing rights. The contracts signed early in their career had given Zaentz disproportionate power. John felt cornered, trapped in a deal that gave away the rights to the very music he created. Tensions escalated when Tom sided with Zaentz during internal disputes, pushing John further into isolation.
In a 1985 interview, John recalled, “When your brother chooses business over blood, something inside you breaks. Tom believed Saul would protect him. I knew better.”
By the time “Mardi Gras” was conceived in early 1972, John had demanded that Stu Cook and Doug Clifford take equal responsibility in songwriting. The result was uneven and raw. Critics panned it. Rolling Stone called it “a band self-destructing before your ears.” John later referred to it as “the worst album ever made by a major band.” His vocals sounded subdued, the rhythm section sounded disconnected, and the lyrics lacked the urgency of earlier records. It felt like an obligation, not a creation.
John’s refusal to play “Creedence Clearwater Revival” songs live for over two decades stemmed not from arrogance, but from deep wounds tied to ownership. Each time he considered performing those songs, he was reminded that Fantasy Records, and Saul Zaentz in particular, would profit. Instead, he remained silent. Lawsuits followed. Zaentz sued John for sounding too much like himself on a solo track. The case became so absurd that in concert, John joked, “Next they’ll sue me for breathing.”
Tom Fogerty attempted to reconnect in the late 1980s, during the early stages of his battle with tuberculosis, but John would not respond. “He made his choice,” John said in a 1993 interview. “And by the time he tried to change his mind, too much damage had been done.” Tom died in 1990, and reconciliation never came.
Stu Cook and Doug Clifford formed Creedence Clearwater Revisited in 1995, touring the country without John, triggering more legal action. Fans often expressed outrage, but John stood firm. He wanted no association with what he saw as a distorted version of his legacy.
In 1993, during a ceremony for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, John performed solo while Stu and Doug sat in the audience. He refused to share the stage. The silence between the former bandmates was louder than any guitar riff that night.
One of the most painful ironies of the Creedence story is that songs about justice, rebellion, and American struggle were at the center of a personal war fueled by betrayal and corporate greed. The sound that once echoed unity had become a symbol of division.
In 2020, John finally reclaimed the rights to his music after a prolonged legal battle, giving him control over the songs he once swore never to sing again. But the cost was heavy. A band that could have rivaled any of its era fell apart not from lack of talent, but from fractured loyalties and a war over ownership.
In the end, the true casualty was not fame or fortune. It was a brotherhood that never healed, a silence that no reunion could undo.