About the Song
Released in 1969 amidst the escalating tensions of the Vietnam War, Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son” became a powerful anthem for a generation disillusioned with the conflict. This isn’t just a rock song; it’s a scathing social commentary wrapped in a catchy melody that continues to resonate today.
Musically, “Fortunate Son” is a prime example of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s swamp rock sound. Driven by a chugging rhythm section and punctuated by John Fogerty’s instantly recognizable guitar riffs, the song pulsates with raw energy. Fogerty’s vocals are equally powerful, shifting between a sneer and a soulful growl as he delivers the song’s biting lyrics.
The true power of “Fortunate Son” lies in its message. The lyrics paint a scathing contrast between those insulated from the war and those forced to fight. Lines like “Some folks are born made to wave the flag, ooh, they’re red, white and blue / And when the band plays ‘Hail to the Chief’ / Ooh, they point the cannon at you” expose the hypocrisy of a war seemingly fought by those who wouldn’t face its consequences. Fogerty doesn’t shy away from criticizing the privileged who send others to fight, highlighting the social and economic inequalities of the draft.
“Fortunate Son” wasn’t just a hit song; it became a cultural touchstone. It reached number two on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and has been featured in countless movies and television shows. More importantly, the song resonated deeply with anti-war protestors and remains an anthem against the injustices of war and the burden placed on the most vulnerable in society.
Even decades after its release, “Fortunate Son” retains its power. It serves as a reminder of the human cost of war and the importance of questioning authority. It’s a song that will continue to challenge and inspire generations to come.
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Lyrics: “Fortunate Son”
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue
And when the band plays “Hail To The Chief”
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh
But when the taxman come to the door
Lord, the house lookin’ like a rummage sale, yeah
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no, no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no
Yeah!
Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes
Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord
And when you ask ’em, “How much should we give?”
Ooh, they only answer, “More! More! More!” Yo
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, one
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate one, no no no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate son, no no no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me