Where did the idea of Legacy originate?
My wife Julie had a vision, years ago, of me re-recording my old songs. I wasn’t so smitten, but getting my publishing back meant finally I was being treated with respect. Put that together with turning 80, and I began to see the acquisition of energy all in one place. I’d say there’s a palpable joy to the new recordings. The fact it was done with my family [guitarist sons Shane and Tyler] gives it a special feeling, I think.

Was it important to keep things in the family, given your brother’s role in CCR?
It didn’t occur to me that way, but my sons are brothers, like me and Tom. Hopefully they’re able to negotiate that much better than I did.

What makes a good song? And how did you discover it at such a young age?
First, it should make you feel something. A good song also keeps the motion going, it doesn’t get stuck and get boring. My mother introduced me to Stephen Foster when I was about three, whose songs were magical. I was about 10 when I was in a little general store, which believe it or not had a jukebox. It was playing Elvis’s My Baby Left Me, and right then, I thought, That’s what I want to do. Music became my whole world, my best friend.

You’re from the Bay Area, but your sound is indelibly associated with the Bayou.
It was exotic to me, hearing about frogs, gators and swamps, and this Southern drawl and various colourful phrases. And so many early rock’n’rollers were from the South.

You had setbacks: CCR’s messy end, the publishing debacle, the ‘lost decade’ before Centerfield was released…
The time leading to Centerfield was the darkest, as my future had been taken away from me because [Fantasy Records MD] Saul Zaentz owned everything I would record. He’d already screwed me over, so I’d be a fool to do it again. But I got free, otherwise he’d have owned Centerfield too, which was such a bellwether record, and a shiny litmus test of my own health. I finally overcame the evil guy.

Your trip to Robert Johnson’s grave in Mississippi in 1990 is linked to that.
It’s the weirdest thing. I’d been writing songs, getting frustrated, and one day I said to Julie, Honey, I have to go to Mississippi. At Robert Johnson’s grave, I wondered who owned his songs – I pictured a disgusting lawyer with a cigar in New York. In 1997, I was recalling that trip, and I argued with myself – it doesn’t matter who owns Johnson’s songs, they’re his songs, and that’s my situation too. I’d made this Gordian knot, to not play CCR songs ever again, but that’s when I decided to start playing them after 25 years – and I realised that’s why I had to go to Mississippi!

Today’s chat has been harmonious, but didn’t you have a grumpy reputation?
I’m not going to say it’s not true. I’m just a human being, and my personal values is to try and be nice, but perhaps given the tension of the band breaking up… That was one reason why I wanted to get away. If I was grumpy, I apologise!

Tell us something you have never told an interviewer before.
Before picking up a guitar, I used to wash my hands with soap, and the skin would keep cracking, which was deadly painful. Thirty five years ago, I discovered Cetaphil [moisturising cream], which has been like a miracle.

Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years is out via Concord on August 22.

IMAGE: David McLister