August 8, 2025 —– Chart #310
Dear Rainsoaked Ramblers,
This week’s tune is a three-minute meditation on soggy parades, broken promises, and the kind of rain that isn’t just water but a metaphor with muddy boots and something to say. The song? “Who’ll Stop the Rain” by Creedence Clearwater Revival—a band that made Southern swamp rock in the Bay Area while dressed like they just came in from chopping wood and fighting a bear.
John Fogerty wrote “Who’ll Stop the Rain” in 1970, and it’s one of those songs that hits you differently depending on what decade you’re standing in. First time you hear it, you think, “Oh, he’s talking about the weather.” By the third or fourth listen, you realize the rain’s a stand-in for all the things we can’t fix: war, lies, politics, broken dreams, wet socks, the works.
It was released on CCR’s Cosmo’s Factory album, a record so good it should come with a seatbelt. It’s got “Travelin’ Band,” “Lookin’ Out My Back Door,” “Run Through the Jungle,” and this little beauty tucked right in there, like a quiet sigh between the riots.
And let’s take a minute for Creedence themselves. Here was a California band that sounded more Mississippi than Marin County, pumping out bayou anthems like they grew up eating grits off a log. John Fogerty’s voice was part bullhorn, part preacher, and part guy yelling at the sky because nobody else would listen. The band had a short run—just about five years at the top—but they left behind a jukebox full of American truth, distortion, and denim.
“Who’ll Stop the Rain” is a gentle strummer with an acoustic backbone and just enough rhythm to carry you down a two-lane road in a pickup with one working wiper blade. The lyrics start out at Woodstock, then drift backward in time to “good men through the ages,” all searching for answers that never seem to show up. There’s no solo, no bridge, no key change—just a steady beat, a lot of rain, and the nagging suspicion that nobody’s steering the ship.
Over the years, plenty of folks have taken their own swing at the song. Bruce Springsteen started playing it live, often as a prelude to “Badlands,” like a kind of rock and roll sermon. Rod Stewart gave it a go with his raspy croon. And more than a few bar bands have used it to close out a long set and get the bartender crying just in time for last call.
For those of us with guitars, this one’s a staple. It’s three chords, maybe four if you get fancy, and a strumming pattern that feels like windshield wipers stuck on slow. Play it on the back porch, play it by the fire, play it next time the world feels a little heavy and the sky won’t cut you a break.
So this week, whether the rain’s literal or the metaphorical kind that comes with bills and bad news, put this song on. Ask the question out loud. Then strum along and accept the fact that the answer might just be… no one. But damn, it sure feels better asking with a guitar in your hands.
John Fogerty performs live at the 1993 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony, the year CCR was inducted into the hall:
Keep Rockin’,
Stan Bradshaw