A Forgotten Song from the Dawn of Creedence
When people talk about Creedence Clearwater Revival, the conversation usually begins with the giants.
“Proud Mary.”
“Bad Moon Rising.”
“Fortunate Son.”
“Have You Ever Seen the Rain.”
These are the songs that defined an era and transformed CCR into one of the most influential American rock bands of all time. Their music sounded confident, urgent, and unmistakably sure of itself. John Fogerty’s voice carried warnings, observations, and hard-earned truths with remarkable conviction.
But long before Creedence became a household name, there was a small, often-overlooked recording called “Call It Pretending.”
It never topped the charts. It never became a radio staple. Many casual fans have never even heard it.
Yet this modest two-minute track offers something that many of CCR’s greatest hits cannot: a rare glimpse into a band that was still becoming itself.
“Call It Pretending” captures Creedence Clearwater Revival at a crossroads—standing between obscurity and greatness, uncertainty and confidence, youth and maturity.
And that is exactly what makes it fascinating.
The Song That Existed Before the Myth
To understand “Call It Pretending,” you have to go back to late 1967.
At that time, the group was emerging from its earlier identity as The Golliwogs, a name they had carried through years of struggling to gain recognition. The transformation into Creedence Clearwater Revival was underway, but the legendary version of the band had not fully arrived.
Recorded in October 1967 at Coast Recorders in San Francisco, “Call It Pretending” was written and produced by John Fogerty. The song first appeared as the B-side to “Porterville,” making it part of the final transitional chapter before CCR’s rise.
Looking back now, the record feels almost like a historical document.
It belongs to that fragile moment when dreams are still uncertain and success remains invisible.
Nobody involved could have known that within a few years they would create some of the most enduring songs in rock history.
At the time, they were simply trying to find their voice.
A Song That Never Needed a Chart Position
One of the most interesting things about “Call It Pretending” is what it did not accomplish.
It wasn’t a major hit.
It didn’t climb the Billboard charts.
It didn’t announce itself as a breakthrough moment.
For many artists, that might make a song easy to dismiss.
But sometimes a song’s value has little to do with commercial success.
“Call It Pretending” matters because it reveals the emotional foundation beneath the music that would follow.
Instead of measuring its significance through chart rankings, it makes more sense to view it as an early sketch from a future masterpiece.
The song represents a band experimenting with identity, emotion, and storytelling before those elements became polished trademarks.
Its importance lies not in where it ranked, but in what it reveals.
Beneath the Title Lies Something Vulnerable
The title itself is intriguing.
“Call It Pretending.”
At first glance, it sounds casual, almost dismissive.
Like someone brushing off their feelings.
Like a shrug.
Like a defense mechanism.
But beneath that simple phrase lies a much deeper emotional truth.
We’ve all known moments when admitting how much we care feels dangerous.
Instead of confessing our feelings, we downplay them.
Instead of acknowledging hurt, we pretend it doesn’t matter.
Instead of exposing vulnerability, we hide behind humor, pride, or indifference.
That emotional tension sits at the heart of the song.
The narrator seems to be trying to rename reality in order to survive it.
If something painful can be called a game, maybe it hurts less.
If love can be dismissed as pretending, maybe rejection becomes easier to bear.
It’s an old human instinct, and one that generations of songwriters have explored through country, blues, soul, and rock music.
“Call It Pretending” understands that instinct remarkably well.
A Different John Fogerty
For listeners familiar with CCR’s later catalog, the song offers another surprise.
It presents a different side of John Fogerty.
The Fogerty most people remember is decisive and commanding.
He sings like someone who already knows what he believes.
Whether warning about trouble ahead in “Bad Moon Rising” or challenging political realities in “Fortunate Son,” his later work carries a sense of certainty.
“Call It Pretending” comes from an earlier emotional landscape.
Here, Fogerty sounds younger.
Less guarded.
More uncertain.
The confidence that would later define his songwriting is still developing.
What emerges instead is something tender and relatable.
There is a youthful sensitivity running through the song that feels almost at odds with the tougher image CCR would later cultivate.
And that’s precisely why the track remains so compelling.
It allows listeners to hear the artist before experience hardened the edges.
Learning How to Be Creedence
Every legendary band has a period of experimentation.
A phase where nothing is fully formed yet.
A stage where musicians are trying on ideas, testing sounds, and discovering what feels authentic.
“Call It Pretending” belongs to that stage.
Listening to it today, you can almost hear a young band wrestling with identity.
They want to sound confident.
They want to sound mature.
They want to sound strong.
But their melodic instincts keep revealing something softer beneath the surface.
That contrast gives the song its charm.
It isn’t the sound of artists who have already figured everything out.
It’s the sound of artists still searching.
And in many ways, that search is every bit as interesting as the destination.
The Importance of Its Return
Decades after its original release, “Call It Pretending” found new life when it was included as a bonus track on the 40th Anniversary Edition of CCR’s 1968 debut album.
For longtime fans, this wasn’t merely an archival curiosity.
It was an opportunity to revisit a crucial piece of the band’s history.
Bonus tracks often serve an important purpose.
They remind listeners that legendary albums don’t appear out of nowhere.
Great bands don’t suddenly emerge fully formed.
There are always earlier experiments, forgotten recordings, and overlooked moments that helped shape the final result.
By preserving “Call It Pretending,” the expanded release transformed the song into a time capsule.
It became evidence of the journey.
Evidence that Creedence Clearwater Revival earned their identity one small step at a time.
The Beautiful Irony of “Pretending”
Perhaps the greatest irony surrounding the song is hidden in its title.
The word “pretending” suggests something false.
Something artificial.
Something not entirely genuine.
Yet the recording itself feels remarkably sincere.
There is honesty in its uncertainty.
Honesty in its vulnerability.
Honesty in the way it reveals a band still searching for direction.
No group spends time recording a song like this unless they truly care.
No songwriter invests emotion into a B-side unless there is something real behind it.
Far from being an act of pretending, the song stands as evidence of authenticity.
It documents musicians chasing a dream before anyone else believed it was possible.
Final Thoughts: A Small Song with a Lasting Truth
“Call It Pretending” may never occupy the same cultural space as CCR’s biggest hits.
It lacks the immediate impact of “Proud Mary.”
It doesn’t carry the iconic status of “Fortunate Son.”
And it certainly isn’t the song most people associate with Creedence Clearwater Revival.
But that is exactly why it deserves attention.
This is not the sound of a legendary band standing on top of the mountain.
It is the sound of that band climbing toward it.
Listening today feels like opening an old photograph and discovering a familiar face years before fame arrived.
You see the future, but you also see the uncertainty.
You hear ambition, but you also hear vulnerability.
And perhaps that’s the enduring beauty of “Call It Pretending.”
It reminds us that before greatness comes becoming.
Before confidence comes doubt.
Before legends are born, they are simply people trying to find their voice.
And sometimes, those early, forgotten songs tell the most honest stories of all.