Although the Fogerty brothers share almost all of the guitar and studio gear they've acquired, they both have personal instruments. Tyler's is a Vox Starstream, while Shane, at right, favors his Rickenbacker 370.
Under the name Hearty Har, the Fogertys work as a unit, complementing each other in all aspects of their music-making. On their debut album, Radio Astro, the brothers move between roles so seamlessly that it would be virtually impossible to know who is doing what on each of the 11 tracks without following along with the liner notes.
Radio Astro kicks off with the arpeggiated 12-string sparkle of "Radio Man '56," a tune so sunny it can provide your daily dose of vitamin D. The song is a straight-ahead rock 'n' roll jam with a bouncy but driving groove provided by bassist Marcus Högsta and drummer Will Van Santen. Fuzzy guitar leads poke through warm, jangly strumming, enveloped by modular synth bubbles that make the song a swirling sonic rainbow, bound to lift any mood.
If "Radio Man '56" is the brightest song on Radio Astro, closing track "Boogie Man" is the darkest. Its reverb-soaked riffage outlines a minor-key progression drenched with Mellotron and harpsichord pads that make it sound as if recorded by a gang of werewolves at midnight on Friday the 13th. There's so much to take in that it might be the fourth or fifth spin before you notice just how cool the guitar part is, but the detail-oriented listening required of these tunes is definitely part of the fun.
"We just ran off in every direction looking for stuff we liked, and, as it turns out, we like a lot of the stuff that our dad likes, too."—Tyler Fogerty
Elsewhere on the album, the Fogertys prove they've inherited the choogle from their dad, but they always manage to put their own spin on it. Each song seems to open a new bag of tricks and use them to their fullest potential, referencing everything from classic rock to dub and reggae to AM gold. And while the Fogertys used so much drool-worthy vintage gear that it's tempting to talk about the album's throwback vibe, the final product draws from so many eras that it could only exist in the modern one, when every sound and style is on the table.
It's no surprise that Shane and Tyler—29 and 28 years old, respectively—grew up surrounded by music. But while they play with their dad alongside their 19-year-old sister Kelsey as the humorously titled Fogerty's Factory, their formative years were not, in fact, a Creedence Clearwater Revival boot camp. Rather, the two brothers say John and their mom, Julie Fogerty, took a hands-off approach, allowing them to find their own way in music.
Shane Fogerty plays a 1964 Hoffner Galaxie—part of the brothers' collection, which also includes instruments by Gold Tone, Framus, Eastwood, Vox, Rickenbacker, and Fender.
Photo by Nikki Neumann
Shane says that his elementary school music teacher, Paul Cuneo, "left an impression at an early age that made us want to do music and planted one of the seeds." In sixth and seventh grade, the brothers started taking private piano lessons with Cuneo. After about a year or two studying piano, they got stoked about the guitar, so their parents took them to Guitar Center to pick out instruments. "Tyler was the first one who was interested, and he went and got a B.C. Rich, and I hated it," explains Shane, who picked out a blue Squier Strat.
Tyler sees something fundamental in their choice of guitars and adds, "Knowing nothing about guitars or anything, a B.C. Rich looks way different than anything else in Guitar Center, so I'm gonna go for that one. Now I play the Vox teardrop, so that's kind of the roots of that. It's just a strange-looking guitar."
TIDBIT: Building their own studio helped the Fogerty brothers define the sound of Radio Astro, which includes electric sitar, tanpura, and tubular bells.
The brothers made an earlier album they've now renounced and buried. "It turned out not how we wanted," says Tyler. "After that I was like, 'We gotta figure out a different way to do this. I know that we can do it on our own.'" Shane adds, "We decided, 'Let's try and [record] something ourselves. We really were interested in the recording process—using the studio like an instrument. That was how we transitioned out of the college band into what we are now."
They decided they needed to build a studio of their own, and Tyler cites his decision to buy a console as the tipping point. "One day, I found this console desk that was really massive, and I took a van down [to get it] and it was sticking out of the back with ropes and rusty nails, and everybody was like, 'Why are you getting that?' I was just disillusioned with playing in L.A. at the same places, and I thought, 'Something has to change; something has to be hyper-focused.' I feel like the only thing you can control is the music, so let's build the studio we want to build and be able to do all of the ideas we couldn't do last time. And over the course of five years, it happened."
Shane and Tyler Fogerty's Gear
Guitars
• 2011 Eastwood Sidejack Baritone
• 1966 Fender Stratocaster
• Fender Custom Shop Stratocaster
• 1967 Framus Atlantik Bass
• Gibson ES-335 Memphis
• Gold Tone Lap Steel
• 1973 Höfner 500/1 bass
• 1964 Höfner Galaxie
• 2012 Martin Custom Shop D-28
• 2007 Rickenbacker 370
• 1968 Vox Starstream VI
• 1968 Vox Starstream XII
Strings & Picks
• Various gauges from Ernie Ball, Pyramid, D'Addario, Martin
• Fender Medium/Light strings
• Dunlop Tortex .73 mm picks
Amps
• 1960s Ampeg B-15N
• Ampeg SR-212RT Super Rocket
• 1950s Califone Turntable Tube Amp
• 1960 Fender Concert
• Fender Deluxe Reverb
• 1962 Fender Vibrolux
• 1950s Gibson Clavioline Amplifier
• Hammond Leslie 3300
• 1960s Magnatone 260
• 1960s Silvertone 1484
• Orange AD30
Effects
• Binson Echorec 2 Super Special
• Fender Reverb Unit
• Fisher Spacexpander Tube Spring Reverb
• Gretsch Oil Can Reverb
• Ibanez Fuzz Machine
• Lovetone Cheese Source
• Maestro Echoplex EP-4
• Maestro PS-1A Phase Shifter
• Maestro Rhythm King
• Morley Power Wah
• Oberheim DX Drum Machine
• Univox Super-Fuzz
Like all developing musicians, the Fogertys went through various musical phases. After Shane and Tyler had been playing together in bands for years, Hearty Har began as a way for Tyler to perform some songs he'd written that were inspired by Leonard Cohen as well as the freak-folk scene they discovered while studying at CalArts. The original version of the band's instrumentation included charango, harmonium, and djembe, but they soon electrified, fully embracing rock 'n' roll. Vestiges of their initial wide-eyed aesthetic can still be heard on Radio Astro in their use of electric sitar, tanpura, and tubular bells.
The brothers started out playing riffs from Offspring and Green Day—Shane reminisces about John teaching him how to play "American Idiot"—but soon began digging into the classic-rock canon, and they cite a lot of their father's peers, such as Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath. While John would help decode sounds on their favorite records, pointing out tidbits about guitar pedals and instruments, they studied with a guitar teacher at school and developed their tastes on their own. Tyler says, "When you let people discover it themselves, they get a deeper love for it, if they're gonna love it. We just ran off in every direction looking for stuff we liked, and, as it turns out, we like a lot of the stuff that our dad likes, too."
Tyler Fogerty digs into his Vox 12-string, one of his pair of favored teardrop guitars, but both brothers also have access to their father's collection of nearly 200 stringed instruments, from Les Pauls to resonators.
Photo by Steph Port
The brothers assembled a studio in a room in their parents' house and compiled a deep collection of gear. According to Shane, Tyler was "the main acquirer" and would endlessly seek out deals. They learned to use each piece they added via embarking on their own recordings as well as music for friends such as Guy Blakeslee and Franky Flowers, developing their skills and turning their studio into a well-oiled machine.
"I think it started with keyboards," says Tyler. "There's a lot of records I really like that feature really bizarre sounds, and a lot of them are keyboards. It's all about unique textures and how they can fit and enhance a song." That isn't to say that they haven't spent time building up a guitar collection. While Shane mostly sticks with his 2007 Rickenbacker 370 and Tyler with his Vox Starstream—he plays both 6- and 12-string models with onboard effects rebuilt by AcidFuzz—they share a wealth of amps, effects, and other 6-strings, and, when necessary, can borrow guitars from their dad, whose 1966 Stratocaster made it onto Radio Astro.
Through the process of making Radio Astro, the Fogertys seem to have explored all the sonic possibilities of their studio. "Canyon of the Banshee," the centerpiece, covers serious musical ground and exemplifies how far the brothers can take things. "We were trying to do the spaghetti Western thing, but also to do a little Pink Floyd 'Echoes,' especially in the beginning with the reverse toms and the descending suspended chords," says Shane. He adds, "It was probably the most fun one on the album to make."
Although their enthusiasm for playing live is obvious, the brothers were disillusioned with playing in L.A. at the same places. "I thought, 'Something has to change; something has to be hyper-focused,'" says Tyler. "I feel like the only thing you can control is the music, so let's build the studio."
Photo by Yegor Mackey
Now that Radio Astro is finished and released, the Fogertys are already working on new material. In the meantime, they're hanging out with their family and playing music with their dad, which can be seen in YouTube videos shot at John and Julie's house—where Tyler also lives—and in their appearances on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert and NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts.
Hearty Har may be their creative focus, but the music they play with their family holds a special place for both Shane and Tyler. "It's nice to be open and free to express ourselves, be a little more experimental with things and a little more out there, but the family stuff is great. I feel like that's a totally different realm, a different space for my creativity and input," says Shane.
Tyler adds, "It's this special feeling that I don't know if I can describe. I'm just grateful that I can be a part of this. Especially playing with Kelsey, it just seems so natural and happy. Me and Shane have played in bands before and there usually comes a point where somebody who hasn't grown up with a musical life gets nasty or weird and it becomes about something other than the music. Because we've grown up with it. We really treasure it and want to keep it alive."YouTube It: Hearty Har on Scenes Live Sessions
Hearty Har rip through a rockin' set of tunes live from the Fogertys' home studio, including Radio Astro's "Radio Man '56," "Can't Keep Waiting," and the epic instrumental "Canyon of the Banshee." That's Tyler on the Vox, at left, and Shane wielding a Les Paul.
“That’s why I call ‘Susie Q’ a ‘dashboard banger,’” Fogerty says. “Back in those times, a car’s dashboard was made out of metal, so it made a hell of a racket when you beat on it. And ‘Susie Q’ just drove me into a frenzy. I couldn’t even believe how primitive and tribal it was. I was just gone.”
He didn’t know it then, but the song’s infectious riff and skillet-hot solo were played by a young Telecaster whiz named James Burton, who would go on to back Ricky Nelson on a string of rock ’n’ roll hits, including “Be Bop Baby,” “Hello Mary Lou,” “Stood Up,” and “Waitin’ in School.” With his confident hybrid-picked style and tube-warmed rockabilly sound, Burton exerted a profound influence on everyone from Keith Richards to George Harrison to Joe Walsh.
A little more than a decade after first hearing “Susie Q,” Fogerty would channel his youthful excitement into a funky, quasi-psychedelic “swamp rock” arrangement of the song. Creedence Clearwater Revival’s eight-and-a-half-minute version of “Suzie Q” (that’s right, spelled with a z) became a hit at San Francisco’s freeform underground rock station KMPX, eventually breaking the band into the Top 40 nationwide. With Fogerty out front—usually on his Rickenbacker 325—his brother Tom on rhythm guitar, Stu Cook on bass, and Doug Clifford on drums, Creedence played no-frills rock with a bare-knuckled conviction that was utterly unique in the Bay Area’s hallucinogen-fueled late-’60s scene. Now-classic albums like Bayou Country (with the anthemic standard “Proud Mary”), Green River,and Willy and the Poor Boys brought them instant adulation around the world—a party that, by 1972, ended just as abruptly in a blaze of recrimination and acrimony.
All this and plenty more makes it into Fogerty’s new memoir from Little, Brown and Company. The unvarnished and sometimes bittersweet autobiography often reads as much like a confessional as it does a celebration of a dyed-in-the-wool rock ’n’ roller’s life on the move. He details the breakup of Creedence, the long, arduous legal battle with Fantasy Records head Saul Zaentz over the rights to his own songs (and significant sums in record royalties), and how the fight nearly finished him before the mid-’80s sessions for Centerfield—widely considered his quintessential “comeback” album. But Fortunate Son also reveals the heart of a working-class romantic—one whose love for his wife Julie, whom he credits with saving him from an emotional meltdown, is inexorably intertwined with his devotion to music, and especially his lifelong fascination with guitar players.
At the tender age of 14, a dapper Fogerty rips on his Silvertone at the county fair.
“That’s the wonderful thing with music, you know?” Fogerty says. “I’ve done my fair share of tracking down records. And it’s more than fascinating, because you’re like an archaeologist—there’s the reward when you discover some great stuff by Hank Williams, or you go back into the ’30s and find some great blues that you didn’t know about. It’s just such a thrill. I’m sure my wife worried that I was going too much in that direction for the book, but that’s certainly a big part of me.”
Having logged more than 50 years on the guitar, starting with a Stella acoustic and then a single-pickup Danelectro Silvertone (the first electric for countless young players in the late ’50s), Fogerty has never given up his passion to get better—or to explore new gear. He still owns a few vintage axes from his Creedence days, but he’s also become a bit of a shredder on his Music Man Axis and a recently acquired Ibanez RG920.
“My technical ability was deeply rooted in rock ’n’ roll and blues, and a little bit of country,” says Fogerty of “Green River” and other Creedence nuggets, “almost in the sense that I didn’t wanna get too good—because then I wouldn’t sound ‘rock ’n’ roll,’ you know? I mean, to me now, that’s a fallacy, because as I got older I just wanted to improve. I wanted to get really good. But before Eddie Van Halen, that wasn’t necessarily considered an admirable trait. Right around 1970, when [jazz-fusion virtuoso] John McLaughlin came along, it was like ‘He’s too far out there—there’s too many notes [laughs].’ The weird thing is, at the very same time, I loved [bluegrass innovator] Bill Monroe—who was an incredible player. He played all kinds of notes and used all his fingers, but somehow in that music it was okay in my book. To me, it was more important to be emotional—to say it in a simplistic way, just hitting one string a certain way, like Albert King or B.B. King, or any of the Kings, because it was all about the tone and the rhythm of it. That’s what I was after.”
That tone is undeniable in Fogerty’s early work with Creedence. You can hear it in the low vibrato rumble of “The Midnight Special,” which Fogerty played on a Les Paul Custom tuned down a whole step to standard D and plugged into a Fender Vibrolux. (“To me, that was the holy grail. When I heard that sound I just went, ‘That’s it!’ And it’s still it.”). On “Green River,” a Burton-flavored, hybrid-picked twang comes through on the song’s opening riff and in the solo, with the Rickenbacker ringing out through a 100-watt Kustom K200A-4 amplifier, which Fogerty almost always had with him onstage.
Many years later, that tone is still being chased by budding young axe-slingers, but Fogerty insists that then, as now, the best thing about his Creedence hits is their succinctness and simplicity. “I like to think my approach to writing on the guitar was more mystical, like Booker T. & the M.G.’s,” he says. “It was simple, but it was right. So if you played that part when you were playing that song, you sounded just like the record, you know? I thought that was the real secret to what Creedence was doing: A kid could sit down and listen to ‘Proud Mary,’ and if you learned that opening riff, you just about had the whole song.”
Fogerty’s only words for this pic of him raging onstage with a Les Paul during CCR’s heyday are “ROCK and ROLL!”
As you started crafting a style of your own and making an impact as a singer and songwriter in the early Creedence days, how strongly did you consider yourself a guitar player?
Well, at the time I thought I was pretty good [laughs]. Put it this way, I admired Chet Atkins greatly, and James Burton of course—and many others—but those are two guys that I would think about and talk about all the time. I considered Chet the best guitar player on earth, and I didn’t think of myself as being anywhere near where he was. It’s a weird thing that your brain does—especially when you’re younger: You don’t realize you’re doing it, but you close doors and you tell yourself, “I won’t be able to do that.” You kind of set yourself off. Eventually I got past that way of thinking, though.
In Fortunate Son, you mention that one of your strengths is being able to recognize a great riff. But you also seem to have a prominent awareness of the groove—a sense of pocket.
Thank you for that. You know, every once in a while, sort of by accident, I’ll stumble on some new little riff, and invariably it’s not because of how complicated it is—it’s because of that groove that makes you feel good. It’s the same exact thing as discovering the “Green River” riff way back when. You get into it, and it’s so simple, but it just feels really good. Most songs that I write, I feel better when there’s a pocket to the arrangement that gives you a happy and soulful feeling.
The Creedence version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” works like that.
I do happen to think that’s one of the great strengths of Creedence as a band. We were able to—in the good times, of course—find that groove. That was essentially my job as the arranger. I had Marvin Gaye’s version, and I knew Gladys Knight’s version, and somehow in the working of it, one day I had the epiphany that instead of being an electric-piano song, it could be a guitar song. It was like, “Oh man, this is a cool riff!” From that moment on, I was off.
None of us were technical whiz-bangs, you know? But since Booker T. & the M.G.’s were our idols, I didn’t really think of them that way either. The sound they made together was a really good groove, and I thought then—and for the most part I still think this way—that was much better than seeing some flashy guy playing nine million notes, with the band behind him just for backup. I always thought the idea of a band grooving was a far more powerful statement.
nine million notes.
Your choice of guitars has changed quite a bit since Creedence. You started with the Rickenbacker, a Gibson ES-175, and a Les Paul Custom. You picked up a Telecaster to record 1973’s Blue Ridge Rangers, and then a Washburn Falcon for Centerfield? What drew you to the Falcon?
Well, it was some time during the “hot rod” days in the middle to late ’70s, and you were seeing pickups without covers everywhere. DiMarzio and Seymour Duncan were getting popular, and in my own fumbling way I was intrigued with all that. I’m pretty sure it was Leo’s Music in Oakland where I went and tried a bunch of different guitars, and I remember picking up the Washburn in that store. The pickups sounded really hot, especially on the bridge pickup. I think I was intrigued too because it had a through-the-body neck. That was very culturally correct at that time—you know, it gives you more sustain. I think it had brass hardware on it, and it had those pickups, but the neck and everything else was perfect. You could get a lot of different sounds out of it. At the time, I really thought that was gonna be my guitar for the rest of my life—at least for the Centerfield album, and certainly on “The Old Man Down the Road.” When I toured in ’86, I played it quite a bit.
You came back to a Telecaster for a while recently. Why did you stay away from them for so long?
I always thought they were kind of hard to play. I would say that—even now, after all these years—that assessment was correct. A Telecaster didn’t give back all that sustain and amp-driving tone that a Les Paul did through a Marshall. Nobody had pedals back then, so if you wanted to get a good sound out of it, you had to learn what all the country guys like James Burton were doing. They had a whole other approach to playing guitar. It was a different style from Jimmy Page or Eric Clapton, at that time at least. It would sustain forever if you hit a low string, but if you hit a chord, the notes didn’t ring very long at all. Also there was more space between the strings than the typical Gibson setup. And again, it’s a 25 1/2" scale rather than 24 3/4". But if you really want it badly enough, then you’ve gotta put in the time. When you do, you’ll be rewarded, because there’s nothing that sounds like a Telecaster doing that stuff. I mean, I just get a smile on my face.
Fogerty's Primary Gear Circa 1968
GuitarsRickenbacker 325
Gibson ES-175
’68 Gibson Les Paul Custom
Amps
Fender Vibrolux
100-watt Kustom K200A-4
a
Kustom 2x15 cab
Fogerty's Primary Gear Circa 2015
GuitarsIbanez RG920
Fender Custom Shop Telecaster
Bill Crook Paisley T-style
’68 Gibson Les Paul Custom
’69 Gibson Les Paul goldtop
Custom “Louisville Slugger” guitar
Amps
Cornford MK50H (modded to 100 watts)
100-watt Diezel VH4
Custom Ampeg 2x15 cab
Dr. Z Z Wreck
Effects
Moog Minifooger MF Delay
SolidGold FX Surf Rider
Custom Zeta Systems tremolo/vibrato
Strings and Picks
Ernie Ball Hybrid Slinky strings (.009-.046)
You picked up a Dobro again for a few cuts on Blue Moon Swamp [1997]. Had you played that since Creedence’s “Looking Out My Back Door”?
No, and for that song all I had learned was a very simple little part, and rehearsed it just enough so that I could record it. I first got introduced to the Dobro backstage at a Johnny Cash show in 1969, by the wonderful [late bluegrass player] Tut Taylor. There was this strange hippy kid who had been hanging around, and he says, “I can get you one of those. I know where there’s a whole bunch of them.” Eventually he found the one you see on the cover of Green River—it’s a Regal Dobro, as a matter of fact, and that strange hippy kid was George Gruhn [laughs]. I think I was right there at the beginning of his business, which was pretty cool.
But I put the Dobro away until about ’92. I started taking trips to Mississippi, and I think that’s when I really got reacquainted with Dobro. When you spend time there, it almost seems like the earth is buzzing. There’s electricity in the ground. I definitely sense that energy. So that sense of a drone—that bluesy, buzzing thing—was in me. At first I started playing normal slide. I got hold of a resonator guitar with a Spanish neck, and just walked around the house playing it. I did that for a year or so, but it wasn’t quite right. And then one day I was at a guitar show out in Pomona [California], and I bought a Dobro from a guy there, tuned it Dobro-style to G–B–D–G–B–D, and started taking it with me on those trips. That’s when I came up with the riff that’s on [2004’s] “Joy of My Life.” I knew it was original, and I really liked it.
And you know, because I talk about tracing things backwards and trying to figure out where they start—well, all Dobro roads, when you’re really serious and trying to learn, eventually lead you to Jerry Douglas. Once I heard his records, with his great tone and his vibrato and his technical ability and musical taste, eventually I realized he’s my favorite musician of all time. It just thrills me when I hear him play.
You write about how the new track “Mystic Highway” [from 2013’s predominantly covers album Wrote a Song for Everyone] was important for you. And throughout the book a lot of your sentiments on experiencing music—and even writing songs—involve riding in a car. It’s almost like the movement, the journey, is an integral part of your work.
I think there’s some truth to that—and you know, a car is also a perfect listening space. I know people with home setups make a big deal about sitting in the right spot—and even in the studio, you’ve gotta get that chair right between the two NS-10s [Yamaha monitors] or whatever [laughs]. But in a car it’s just perfect because the air is sort of trapped. And one of the secrets of good producing is to arrange your records for a car. You don’t need so much—just a backbeat, a vocal, and on my records at least, you need a guitar. Then the things you have right in the middle, sonically, they should probably be the loudest. So while you’re singing, the guitar shouldn’t be as loud as you are—but when it goes to the solo, that should drive the whole thing. You don’t need to hear a symphony orchestra. With just a really cool guitar part and a backbeat, you’ve got it all—especially in the car.
Keep on Burnin’
Don’t bother mentioning old dogs and new tricks to John Fogerty—he doesn’t want to hear about it. Over the last decade or so, he’s been woodshedding, watching guitar videos online, and picking up new techniques with the appetite of a hungry disciple. For proof, take a look at this live clip of the Creedence staple “Keep on Chooglin,’” from his 2005 concert film, The Long Road Home.With his dive-bombing whammy bends and neo-classical tapping techniques, Fogerty doesn’t quite take Yngwie Malmsteen to task, but the fact that he even makes the attempt and comes off sounding like a real shredder is testament to his dedication.
“It’s a funny thing,” he says today. “If you latch on and just stay current, then you’re not out of it anymore. Back in my dark period, I was adrift—cast off the ship like Captain Bligh, in my little rowboat trying to find land [laughs]. But once you get back into it and just stay current, it’s really effortless—especially online. I’m constantly getting lessons. You just go on YouTube and that will lead you from one thing to another.”
Fogerty also cites his renewed interest in Eric Johnson, as well as players like Rick Graham, as sources of inspiration. At the same time, he’s been refocusing on his Telecaster chicken-pickin’ technique, turning to the work of Johnny Hiland for guidance.
“Usually I just put my Ibanez [920] on the bridge pickup and play all my Tele riffs on that,” he admits. “I’m usually practicing at like 4 o’clock in the morning, so I have a Pocket Rockit [V2 headphone amplifier by C-Tech], which is really pretty remarkable to help you practice. I feel like you always see some new thing and you’re just kind of filled with lust about it [laughs]. I think it’s wonderful to be able to keep yourself stoked and excited and passionate.”
And if you want the full lowdown on Fogerty's current stash of gear, you gotta watch the Rig Rundown we did earlier this year covering his and his son's live setup:
On May 3, 2015, John Fogerty’s tech, Dave Whiston, and son/co-guitarist Shane Fogerty hung with PG to talk gear before the band’s sold-out show at The Woods Amphitheater at Fontanel in Nashville.
Special thanks to Dave Whiston for details.
