The Man Who Was Sued for Sounding Like Himself: John Fogerty’s Decades-Long War to Shame and Beat the Corporate Music Machine

John Fogerty is, without question, an American rock and roll titan. As the principal songwriter, lead singer, and guitarist for Creedence Clearwater Revival (CCR), he crafted a body of work so iconic—from “Proud Mary” and “Bad Moon Rising” to “Fortunate Son”—that it essentially became the folk music of a generation. Yet, behind the triumphant soundtrack lay a story of artistic betrayal, legal warfare, and emotional torment so profound it became a legendary cautionary tale for every musician who has ever signed a contract. For nearly half a century, Fogerty’s life was an open-book indictment of a music industry designed to profit from an artist’s creativity while stripping them of their ownership and peace.

The entire brutal chapter of Fogerty’s life traces its roots back to an “onerous” contract signed in 1968 with Fantasy Records, the band’s label, then owned by movie producer and businessman Saul Zaentz. The contract, which was staggeringly unfavorable to the band, saw the young, naive musicians sign away ownership of their master recordings and, crucially, their song publishing rights—the very “coin of the realm” Fogerty created.

Creedence Clearwater Revival was one of the biggest bands in the world between 1969 and 1971, briefly rivaling the Beatles in popularity. Yet, even as their records flew off the shelves, Fogerty found himself entangled in a legal and financial knot that would leave him feeling “imprisoned” for decades. He once described the feeling as being a “little prisoner in their dungeon, their little mouse in a cage that they played with.” This sense of being cheated, combined with creative friction within the band, led to the bitter breakup of CCR in 1972.

The Most Absurd Lawsuit in Rock History

The true shame heaped upon the music industry, and the most bizarre twist in Fogerty’s tale, came over a decade later. In 1985, after years of artistic exile, Fogerty released his triumphant solo album, Centerfield, which included the hit single “The Old Man Down the Road.” This should have been a moment of pure celebration, but his old nemesis, Saul Zaentz and Fantasy Records, launched a truly unprecedented $144 million lawsuit. Their claim? That Fogerty’s new song was a copyright infringement—a copy—of his old CCR hit, “Run Through the Jungle.”

Fogerty was, in effect, being sued for plagiarizing himself.

This was not simply a business dispute; it was a brazen act of corporate spite that exposed the absurdity and malice latent in the music publishing system. Zaentz owned the publishing rights to “Run Through the Jungle” because Fogerty had signed them away years before. Therefore, if the new song was deemed a copy, the publishing rights to “The Old Man Down the Road” would also revert to Fantasy. The logic of the label was perverse: they would rather destroy Fogerty’s solo career and claim his new income than let him create successfully outside of their control.

Taking His Guitar to the Supreme Court

The plagiarism trial of 1988 became a spectacle that highlighted the human cost of the music industry’s greed. To defend his integrity, Fogerty was forced to do what no other artist had done: he brought his guitar to the witness stand. In a silent courtroom, he performed for the jury, demonstrating how “The Old Man Down the Road” and “Run Through the Jungle” were distinct compositions, built on his singular, swamp-rock style. He argued that the fundamental issue at stake was whether an artist could continue to use their own unique style as they progressed through their career.

Fogerty won the case, but the victory was bittersweet. While the jury ruled in his favor, he was left with a massive legal bill of over $1.3 million. He fought for reimbursement of these fees, all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In 1993, the Supreme Court ruled in his favor in Fogerty v. Fantasy, Inc., establishing a new precedent in copyright law that allowed prevailing defendants to recover their legal fees. This decision was a colossal, albeit costly, victory for artists everywhere, making it more difficult for large corporations to wage frivolous, punitive legal wars against creators.

An Unbearable Artistic Exile

The battle took a terrible toll, extending far beyond the courtroom. For decades, the pain and associations with his old label and the bitter falling out with his bandmates—including his late brother, Tom Fogerty—made playing his CCR songs an unbearable experience. He refused to perform any of his beloved Creedence hits live for nearly 25 years. He described having a visceral, allergic reaction to his own music, turning off the radio whenever a classic CCR track would play. This self-imposed exile from his own genius was a direct consequence of the legal hijacking of his art, a deeply personal wound inflicted by corporate greed.

Even a defamation lawsuit, which arose from the song “Zanz Kant Danz”—a thinly veiled, critical shot at Zaentz that Fogerty had to later re-record as “Vanz Kant Danz”—demonstrated the depth of the animosity and the extent to which his art was subsumed by the legal struggle.

The Final, Hard-Won Triumph

The long tale of bitterness and legal darkness finally saw a shaft of light in January 2023. At a time when many of his peers were selling their song catalogs for massive, nine-figure paydays, John Fogerty did the opposite. After a 50-year struggle, he finally acquired a majority interest in the global publishing rights to his CCR catalog, purchasing them from Concord Records, which had bought Fantasy Records in 2004.

While the exact sum remains undisclosed, the price Fogerty paid was far more than monetary; it was the final payment for a lifetime of fighting for his creative soul. As he stated, “I’m the dad [of these songs]. I created them. They never should have been taken away in the first place. And that hijacking left such a massive hole in me.”

Fogerty’s story is a profound, half-century-long shaming of a music industry model that prioritizes profit over the rights of the creator. His perseverance, culminated by the literal act of buying his “children” back, serves as both a harrowing warning about predatory contracts and an inspiring testament to the power of one artist’s unbreakable will to reclaim his legacy and artistic integrity from the very machine that sought to own him. His triumph is not just a personal victory; it is a landmark moment in the ongoing fight for artists’ rights globally.