There can be no doubt that Fogerty, 69, is one of the last practitioners of Chuck Berry-based, full throttle rock n’ roll (Brian Setzer and George Thorogood are among his few kindred spirits). To see him make the high strings shriek during Green River, to watch him jump up and down while egging on his son Shane to extend his guitar moment in an unhinged, extended The Old Man Down the Road and to witness him chicken-pick a solo on a version of Lookin’ Out My Back Door that might have been even better than the original record … well, that was, quite simply, rock n’ roll.
And to hear it played like that, in its undiluted, primitive, primal glory, was to be happy at the thought of that music’s continued existence. But somehow, it was also impossible not to contemplate life without it. Hanging in the air was a picture of a not-at-all-distant future with only a pile of records to remind you of the live action you once took for granted.