ReZoom

As John Fogerty declares on "Creedence Song" from his new album Revival, "You can't go wrong if you play a little bit of the Creedence Song." Indeed the former Creedence Clearwater Revival leader plants one foot confidently in the present on the new set, while dipping his toe fondly into his past.

Just nominated for the Best Rock Album Grammy Award, Revival represents a rebirth for both listener and artist. It's Fogerty's first CD of new material since returning to Fantasy Records, the label for whom he made those classic CCR albums. And it signals to his fans that his long legal fights with Fantasy over his Creedence catalog is over.

The door cracked open when Concord Records purchased Fantasy a few years ago and reached out to soothe Fogerty's lingering bitterness toward former Fantasy owner Saul Zaentz. The rapprochement resulted first in a greatest hits package that combined songs from both his Fantasy and Warner Bros. days and then led to the new album. "I don't sit around using up lots of emotional energy worrying about water under the bridge so ‘Creedence Song' was my way of blowing open that door to say, ‘Look, I'm fine. Everything's really okay.'"

There's a lightness and joy that permeates the tracks, even when the subject matter is heavy. He takes no prisoners on "I Can't Take it No More," about the Iraqi War, and leaves no doubt about his opinion of the current administration on the caustic but funny "Long Dark Night." "I make fun of Brownie and Rummy and Dickie because I'm trying to take their power away, but the idea is that this is almost a plague, almost an evil force of nature that's going to put us through this long, dark night because the common man does feel powerless."

Despite such a message, he says he's fine if fans ignore the lyrics and just groove to his electrifying, nimble guitar work because his mission is musical, not political: "I just wanted to stay in the middle of rock and roll." He says he learned his lesson when he went back and revisited his 1986 album, "Eye of the Zombie." "I said, ‘Boy, you sure got up on a soapbox there.' I don't like that place, being too preachy."

A renewed confidence bolsters such cuts as the lilting, bouncy first single "Don't You Wish It Was True," the emotional "Broken Down Cowboy" and the rockabilly-infused "It Ain't Right."

That's in part because Fogerty knew he was on the right path from the start. "In rehearsal, I knew it was going to work. A lot of times on prior albums, there's those moments where you're in the studio or rehearsing or whatever and you're kind of going through this agony. You're very unsettled or anxious because you're not completely sure it is going to work."

As he frequently does, Fogerty produced the album himself. It's easier that way, he says, because the production ideas start as the tunes develop. "When I'm writing a song, I'm hearing the record. I'm not just a singer/songwriter a la Bob Dylan or somebody with an acoustic guitar. Since an early teenager, I've heard what the record should sound like. That's far beyond just writing the songs."

Plus, the few projects where he's left the production chores to others, "they didn't turn out so well as far as I'm concerned."

At 62, Fogerty feels like he's really coming into his own, to a place where experience and talent converge: "I feel like a baseball player in his early 30s," he says. "Now he's got the wisdom, but he's still got the chops; the physical abilities to go on and hit another 300 homeruns. I can't stress enough that my powers are back. I feel empowered, I feel healthy."

Put him in coach, he's ready to play.