
The unease I've felt all these years is now at peace… I'm going to kick butt, says John Fogerty ahead of Glastonbury
UNFINISHED BUSINESS The unease I've felt all these years is now at peace… I'm going to kick butt, says John Fogerty ahead of Glastonbury
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WHEN John Fogerty walks out on to Glastonbury's Pyramid Stage tomorrow, he will be taking care of unfinished business – in more ways than one.
After a struggle dating back more than 50 years, he finally owns the publishing rights to the much-loved songs he wrote as Creedence Clearwater Revival's chief creative force.
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Creedence Clearwater Revival's chief creative force, John Fogerty
Credit: David McLister
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John wants to ensure his Glastonbury appearance is a rock 'n' rolling success
Credit: David McLister
'For most of my life, I've been angry, hurt and frustrated,' Fogerty tells me.
'Not owning the songs meant that I didn't control their destiny. I didn't get to say what movie they'd be in or whether they could be used in a commercial.
'But the unease I've felt all these years is now at peace.'
It means he can belt out Proud Mary, Born On The Bayou, Bad Moon Rising and Up Around The Bend with unbridled joy rather than lingering bitterness.
Should the heavens open on Worthy Farm, he will have the perfect response with Who'll Stop The Rain.
If it stays dry, as is forecast, he can unleash Have You Ever Seen The Rain?
Isn't that great for an artist who couldn't bear to sing Creedence songs for the first 25 years of his fight to reclaim his legacy?
As he heads to the Somerset countryside, another motivating factor for Fogerty is that his last visit to Glastonbury, 18 years ago, was less than satisfactory.
Now he says: 'I want to go there and kick butt!' A month's worth of rain fell during festival weekend in 2007, making it the wettest Glastonbury on record and reducing the huge site to a quagmire.
'It rained like a son of a gun,' reports the rock legend who turned 80 in May.
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'It was so muddy, and somewhat chaotic, with all these people wearing rubber boots.'
Fogerty recalls playing 'very, very well' despite challenging conditions. 'But we were almost fighting for survival just to stay above water and put on a good show.'
He continues: 'We went on way after our start time and, near the end of our set, a big commotion was going on.
'People were shouting, 'You have to come off!' Proud Mary was meant to be our last song but they pulled the power. That didn't leave a good taste!'
He compares his experience to the festival which took place in August, 1969 — the daddy of them all, Woodstock.
Creedence were one of the headline acts for '3 Days Of Peace & Music' on Max Yasgur's dairy farm in upstate New York, attended by half a million people.
The band were at the peak of their powers, selling more records that year than any other act in the world, INCLUDING The Beatles.
'The rain and mud very much figured into everything at Woodstock,' he says.
When Creedence finally appeared in the early hours of Sunday morning, at least the deluge had subsided.
But Fogerty adds: 'My frustration with Woodstock was that we went on very late.
'The Grateful Dead had been on for well over an hour, a lot of that time with no music coming from the stage. Half the audience was asleep!'
Fifty-six years later, I'm speaking to Fogerty as he puts past disappointments aside to ensure that his appearance at Sir Michael Eavis's dairy farm is a rock 'n' rolling success.
'I want to be great and I'm looking forward to it,' he says, 'especially as I'm playing with my sons [Shane and Tyler].'
I'm meeting Fogerty in the dimly lit basement bar of a hotel in the heart of London's Soho.
The trademark checked flannel shirt is present and correct. He still sports a full head of hair, though perhaps not as impressive as the fulsome mop seen during his early years in the limelight.
Unafraid to be outspoken — just what you'd expect of a rock elder statesman — he soon lights up the room.
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From left, Doug, Tom, John and Stu in 1970
Credit: Didi Zill
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John performing at Woodstock back in August 1969
Credit: Getty
Fogerty is marking the end of his fight to get his songs back with an album called Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years.
As with his live shows, it was made in the company of his sons and it summons all the old fire and brimstone.
He says: 'It was absolutely wonderful to be making this record with Shane and Tyler — in keeping with the tradition of a father passing on his work to his sons.'
Each track comes with the words John's Version in brackets after the title, echoing the Taylor's Version re-recordings by the world's biggest singing star.
At a time when Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Sting have been selling off their back catalogues for vast sums, Fogerty and a certain Ms Swift have 'done the opposite'.
'I even lobbied to call mine Taylor's Version,' he laughs. 'That would have been good marketing.'
On a more serious note, Fogerty says he understands why those other legends have sold their rights.
'Miraculously, they owned their stuff from a young age. They had better representation,' he says.
'A lifelong quest'
'But it's been a quest all my life to gain the ownership I never had.'
It all came about because the head of his small record label Fantasy, the late Saul Zaentz, acquired the rights before Creedence Clearwater Revival hit the big time — and wouldn't let go.
'It was awful,' admits Fogerty. 'If it had been RCA or EMI, some huge conglomerate, and we were a little rock band, you might expect that sort of relationship.
'But this became very personal. I knew Saul Zaentz and he was a nothing, like I was a nothing before I started writing those songs.
"A song like Run Through The Jungle hadn't even been written but it was already owned by Saul because of a piece of paper — the contract I signed.
'So, I had a lot of ill will towards him because he treated me so meanly. He was arrogant and dismissive.'
After years of legal proceedings and despair, Fogerty credits a very special person in his life for helping to get his songs back.
'My dear wife Julie fought for this and made it happen,' he says. 'It has changed my life. It has changed everything.'
Now it's time for a quick Creedence recap.
The four members, Fogerty (lead vocals and guitar), his brother Tom (rhythm guitar), Stu Cook (bass) and Doug Clifford (drums) first got together in 1959.
They met at high school in El Cerrito, a city in the San Francisco Bay Area of California.
As The Blue Velvets, they enjoyed little success and had to endure their name being changed by a record company executive to The Golly***s, which they hated.
I want to be great and I'm looking forward to it, especially as I'm playing with my sons
John Fogerty
Only when they became Creedence Clearwater Revival in January, 1968, did everything start falling into place — creatively if not contractually, that is.
Their self-titled debut album featured their first hit, a cover of Dale Hawkins' Suzie Q, and Fogerty's most significant early composition, Porterville.
He says: 'I wrote Porterville while on active duty in the military, marching around in unbearable heat and going into a hallucinating mental state.
'Everything was coming to life in my mind and that was pretty new for me. The song is a bit autobiographical, especially about my father/son situation. It captured my feelings in those times.'
Porterville is the oldest Fogerty song to get a stirring 2025 reboot on his new album.
Many of the other songs first appeared during his golden year of 1969 when inspiration came thick and fast — and THREE top ten albums were released.
He says: 'The wonderful thing was that it was all organic and created by the band — not some publicity machine or a record label.
'We didn't have a manager, we didn't have a publisher, we weren't on a big label, so I thought I'd just have to do it with music.
'My bandmates became resistant to all this work but I was the one staying up every night, usually until 4am, writing songs.
'I took it on because, in my mind, I was really the only one of us who could do it.
'I kept kicking myself in the butt instead of going on a vacation or acquiring a bunch of material things. It felt like a matter of life and death.'
The first of the three albums, Bayou Country, served notice of Californian Fogerty's infatuation with America's Deep South.
I ask him why he relocated, in his mind at least, to the Mississippi Delta and wrote such songs as Proud Mary and Born On The Bayou.
Fogerty says: 'I was doing that intuitively. Starting with Susie Q, the way I played the guitar seemed to have a Southern feel.
'As for the musical stars I loved, the spookier the better. People like Bo Diddley, Howlin' Wolf and Slim Harpo.
'Spookier the better'
'There was something so mysterious about what they were doing, almost untouchable, but I wanted to go in there and let it resonate.'
He adds with a wry smile: 'I realise this sounds a little strange for a white, middle- class boy but my writing comes from deep inside.'
Fogerty recalls movies set in the South having a big impact — Swamp Water with Dana Andrews and Walter Brennan, The Defiant Ones with Sidney Poitier and Tony Curtis.
He affirms: 'At later times in my life, after the band broke up and through all kinds of trends, I've always thought that bluesy, supernatural place is where I'm at my best.'
I invite Fogerty to explain how his most famous song, Proud Mary, came into being.
He describes the 'happy confluence' of things going on in his life that 'miraculously came out in that song'.
'I'd just got my honourable discharge from the army. I was very happy about it,' he says.
'Most of us didn't want to go into the jungle [in Vietnam] without knowing why and have to fight an unseen person, perhaps die doing it.'
Fogerty remembers the euphoric moment he arrived home: 'I immediately went into the house and started playing chords on my little guitar that were slightly reminiscent of Beethoven's 5th.
'With that happy feeling, I got to a place where I was 'rollin', rollin', rollin' on the river'. I thought, 'Oh, I like that but what am I writing about?''
He dived into the songbook he'd been keeping and saw the words 'Proud Mary' at the top of the first page.
At the bottom of the page, which yielded Bad Moon Rising and Sinister Purpose as well, was the word 'riverboat'.
Cue a lightbulb moment for Fogerty. 'I thought, 'Proud Mary, oh, that's the name of a boat!'
'There is so much Americana in that idea. Hopes and dreams connected to this boat, which is connected to the Mississippi, which is connected to hundreds of years of folklore.
'I didn't try to make it happen but it converged right there in the perfect way.'
I was a team player but the idea of relinquishing and letting the others write the songs seemed like career suicide.
John Fogerty
Did Fogerty like the Ike & Tina Turner version of Proud Mary which hit No4 in the US singles chart in 1971?
'I loved it,' he replies. 'The first time I heard it, I was in the car. It was dark, somewhere around seven o'clock, so it must have been winter, and it came on the radio.
'I'd been a Tina fan for years. In fact, since hearing It's Gonna Work Out Fine at a club [in 1961], I was always pulling for her.'
Proud Mary took pride of place on Bayou Country and the hits kept on rolling through the next four Creedence LPs — Green River (1969), Willy And The Poor Boys (1969), Cosmo's Factory (1970) and Pendulum (1970).
One of Fogerty's best songs was searing Fortunate Son which took aim at rich families paying for their children to avoid the draft while poor kids went off to fight.
By way of explanation, he says: 'I grew up in a lower- middle-class situation — not at poverty level but many times it felt like it.
My parents divorced and my mom had five boys to raise. There was certainly an element of us being behind the eight ball.
'We had a basement that flooded every time it rained. It felt like a semi-prison at times.
'The funny thing is, I've earned millions of dollars in my life, right? But I still feel like that kid in that room.'
By the time of 1972's disastrous Mardi Gras album, which shared songwriting duties rather than rely solely on Fogerty, irreparable cracks appeared — and Creedence split in circumstances that he likens to a bitter divorce.
'I was pretty sure that none of the other fellas could come up with anything like I was doing,' he says. 'Before a rehearsal, I'd say, 'Does anybody have anything?' They would look at their toes, so I just kept going.
'I was a team player but the idea of relinquishing and letting the others write the songs seemed like career suicide.'
Things came to a head at a band meeting in late 1970 when Fogerty's brother Tom said he wouldn't be in the band 'if it stays the way it is'.
'I had to relent because I realised there would be no band otherwise. So, I gave everybody what they wanted, then it fell apart anyway.'
Tom Fogerty was first to leave and sadly died aged just 48, never reconciling with his younger brother.
John says: 'When Tom left, it broke my heart.
'He was clearly disliking me and even said publicly that Saul Zaentz was his best friend. That hurt me and drove my anger.
'When Tom passed away, we had not come to grips with the situation but, years later, I made a point in my heart and my mind to forgive him.
'I realise we both messed up but I expect to meet Tom in the afterlife, and that everything will be joyful.'
Speaking of joyful, it's the perfect word to describe John Fogerty's return to Glastonbury.
Festival-goers will be surprised at how many of his songs they can sing along to.
Big wheel keep on turnin'
Proud Mary keep on burnin'
JOHN FOGERTY
Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years
★★★★☆
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The Guardian
15 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘I tried to be nice. Sometimes I would explode': John Fogerty on Creedence, contracts and control
There were once two brothers from an Irish background, living in the outer suburbs of a hip city. They got in a band and one of them turned out to be a genius songwriter and arranger. For a few years everything they touched turned to gold. Then they fell out, bitterly, each blaming the other for everything that had gone wrong. It's the story of not just the Gallagher brothers, but also John and Tom Fogerty. Like Noel, John was the brilliant songwriter, arranger, lead guitarist and producer – but he was also like Liam, the frontman with one of the great rock'n'roll voices. Whereas Tom Fogerty, who had been the original lead singer of the group that eventually became Creedence Clearwater Revival, had nothing without his brother's genius. The first strains came when Tom began to resent his younger brother's leadership, and the demands he made on the rest of the band. It widened when Tom was the first to quit, in 1971. It became a chasm after Creedence completely split. Fantasy, the tiny jazz label that had been the only one to offer the young band a deal – a staggeringly onerous deal, demanding 180 songs over five years on a meagre royalty – freed the other three from their commitments, but refused to let John go, and kept ownership of his songs. Things soured further throughout the 1980s, when John battled to extricate himself from Fantasy, and from the failed offshore savings scheme the label had pushed him into which had left him without any of the rewards from his Creedence years. Each time, Tom took Fantasy's side, proclaiming John's nemesis, Fantasy boss Saul Zaentz, to be his friend. The two never reconciled. Tom died, aged 58, in 1990. The John Fogerty sitting in his home in California – dressed, inevitably, in a plaid shirt, a giant photo of himself on stage in 1969 hanging behind him – is cheery and tolerant on our video call, not the raging man he was through the decades after Creedence split in 1972. He has the stability of a long and happy marriage to his wife, Julie. And, as of two years ago, he has ownership of the 69 songs he wrote for Creedence, 20 of them also additionally rerecorded with two of his sons, Shane and Tyler. They will be released this month as Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years. He looks back over the years when he was fighting for his songs, and sighs. 'The best way I can describe it is I was imprisoned wrongfully and sent away to the penitentiary for many, many years.' Creedence, without anyone really noticing, have remained the biggest rock band of the 1960s: of any band from that decade, only the Beatles have more listeners on Spotify each month. Weeks after he turned 80, Fogerty played a barnstorming Pyramid stage set at Glastonbury festival this summer, and the greatest hits album, Chronicle – released without Fogerty's consent in 1976 – is, like, Fleetwood Mac's Rumours, permanently lodged in the US album chart (currently at No 57). But Creedence don't have the tumultuous love lives, the thinly veiled Broadway plays and TV dramas, the hanging out with Harry Styles. They may be the most unglamorous major band in rock history. 'I'm a great believer in songs,' Fogerty says. 'If you have enough songs, even if your playing is kind of average, you can go far.' But why do those songs – Fortunate Son, Bad Moon Rising, Proud Mary, Born on the Bayou, Green River, Have You Ever Seen the Rain, Lodi and so many more – endure so strongly? Perhaps its because Creedence simply sound like America: you can hear John Steinbeck and Mark Twain in them, as well as Little Richard and Howlin' Wolf. Their name harks back to something innocent, and those plaid shirts – at a time when their California contemporaries were donning hippy finery – kept the package timeless. During his boyhood in the San Francisco Bay Area town of El Cerrito, 'I had very strong input,' says Fogerty. 'My mom gave me a record when I was three years old, and it was songs by Stephen Foster. She explained that he had been a songwriter.' Foster, a century earlier, had composed many of the songs that passed down in American folklore – Oh! Susanna, Camptown Races and more. Fogerty also paid attention to Pete Seeger and the folk revival, and to country music. 'Even though I always considered myself pretty much a mainstream rock'n'roll kid, all these other influences were there.' By the time Creedence broke through in 1968 with a cover of Dale Hawkins' Susie Q – the start of an astounding run that resulted in nine Top 10 hit singles up to Sweet Hitch-Hiker in 1971, and three classic albums in 1969 alone – the Fogertys, and rhythm section Stu Cook and Doug Clifford, had been making records under various names and in varying line-ups since 1961. By the time he started writing for Creedence, Fogerty knew exactly what he wanted to achieve. Each side of a seven-inch single was rehearsed for six weeks before recording it to achieve maximum impact, and the other three were instructed in exactly how they had to play. The result was that Creedence sounded like the tightest, most powerful garage band in the world. They were a juggernaut, but they could convey emotion as well. 'For every song I wrote I threw 10 away,' Fogerty says. 'When you heard one of my songs, I wanted there to be no doubt it was a really good song. It sounds grandiose to say it, but I was trying to have that as my career goal.' With no competent manager and a label that didn't have a clue, Fogerty determined he would have to do everything. 'The absolute coin of the realm, the only thing that I had to spend, was the music I could create. I became manic about it, but also paranoid, meaning I just had to work really, really hard. Whatever energy I had, I applied it completely to furthering the career of the band. And when the jealousy [from the other three members, who also wanted to write songs] began, I thought I could cure that by working hard.' But it didn't work. Tom left after their sixth album, Pendulum. Fogerty believes it's because his bluff had been called: he knew he knew he would have to write songs for the next one, and that he wasn't good enough to step up. So for the final one, Mardi Gras, Fogerty let Clifford and Cook write. 'It was something I had been putting off, or pushing back against, because I thought they were incapable and it would mean career suicide.' It turned out to be just that – panned by critics, it failed to make the US Top 10 and Fogerty later called it 'horse manure'. On 16 October 1972, Creedence announced their split. Thus began the wilderness years. There was a solo album in 1973, of covers, but Fogerty still owed Fantasy eight original albums. So he went on strike, until David Geffen bought out his deal and brought him to Asylum for one underpowered record in 1975, and then more or less nothing until 1985's hit album Centerfield, which resulted in him being sued by Zaentz for plagiarising himself. Fogerty won that one, but had to pay Zaentz for defamation over the song Zanz Kant Danz (later rerecorded and renamed Vanz Kant Danz). And still Zaentz wouldn't sell him the Creedence catalogue. What Fogerty describes in his autobiography – an inability to write any new songs, an allergic reaction to his old ones (he would turn off the radio if they came on), a refusal to play live in any meaningful sense, periods of heavy drinking, reckless behaviour, disturbed sleep – sounds like an ongoing, decades-long breakdown. 'I never really thought I had a nervous breakdown, but I would say I was not well,' he says. 'Not stable, or even-keeled, or normal. It would manifest itself in strange ways: I remember going into a department store to buy some socks, and I was unable to approach the salesperson because it was far too complicated for me. It sounds pathetic.' No, it doesn't. It sounds like someone very sick. 'Yeah. I guess I might have seen a shrink, but I was in the middle of the stream swimming and just trying to keep my head above water.' The rage, he says, could make him difficult to be around. 'I tried to be nice. I tried to be humble, but there were times when I would explode. That could come out if I was near people, or even if I was quite alone. It happened a few times when I was alone in the wilderness, fishing, and I'd just go off into a rage about my gear.' I tell him it sounds as though, more than anything else, he needed someone to take care of him. He had been, in effect, chief executive of a multinational company before he was 25, and had been working since childhood. Everyone who was meant to take care of him had let him down. 'Well, yes, that's true. And, boy, there's nothing like that sense that somebody cares for you and they're taking care of you. After I met Julie, she insisted some therapy would help me. I was telling the doctor about my situation with the band and he said, 'Well, that's betrayal. You were betrayed.' And that's the first time I'd been given a word to describe the situation.' Fantasy wasn't the issue by this point. Zaentz was. So when he sold his share of the companyto Concord in 2004, Fogerty returned more or less immediately. Concord now owned the Creedence catalogue, and had no desire to make an enemy of their signing. Almost immediately, it reinstated the royalties Fantasy had previously withheld, and it was open to selling Fogerty his songs. It took a further 19 years, but it did happen, and Fogerty was delighted. 'This is something I thought would never be a possibility,' he tweeted in January 2023. 'After 50 years, I am finally reunited with my songs.' The first fruits of that ownership come in the form of the Legacy album. One of the first songs he worked on for it was what he believes to be his first great song, Proud Mary, the unlikely rock'n'roll number about a Mississippi paddle steamer. He built up the backing track, making it sound ragged and raw but thrillingly precise, exactly as Creedence did. Then he listened back to his first vocal takes. 'There was what they call an epiphany. The track sounded really stunning, and the lead vocal paled by comparison. And it finally dawned on me: John, when you were doing this way back when, it was life or death for you. I came from a state of if not poverty, then the lower economic rungs. It was very important and necessary to be great, as great as whatever was in me. And at that point I felt as if I was going through a portal, and really trying to be that person again. I continued to work on Proud Mary that way and I ended up in a place I felt very good about. 'My wife told me she'd been watching me from the control room, and she said she could see it in my face that I actually was making myself go back, so I continued to work that way with the rest of the songs. I'm just an adventurer, you know, like an explorer coming back to the homeland.' It's an oddity that Fogerty's legacy rests on songs written in such a short span of time. Only two of his solo albums (Centerfield and 1997's Blue Moon Swamp) come within spitting distance of Creedence. It's terrifying, too, that a song such as Fortunate Son – about how the sons of wealth avoid fighting the wars their fathers profit from – remains relevant, especially now the US is governed by one of those fortunate sons. 'I wrote that song during the administration of Richard Nixon. Now Donald Trump is almost a direct descendant, skipping the years since 1974. Of course, Mr Trump is doing everything on steroids compared to Nixon. I think Nixon did have some shame. I don't get that sense these days.' Fogerty, the all-American musician (right down to being a hunter), must have some pretty staunch Maga types among his fans. Does that trouble him? 'There's certainly no secret about a song like Fortunate Son, or Who'll Stop the Rain' – the rain representing the rot in the Nixon era. 'You know what my worldview must be. But I don't hold fans responsible for the activities of Mr Trump. I wish everyone was a little bit more towards the middle. The older you get, you're just sorry that everything's so kneejerk.' The great imponderable, given how much misery it caused him, is whether Fogerty might have been happier without his success. If he had written and recorded all those songs, but no one had ever bought them and there had been no money to fight over, would he have happily gone back to El Cerrito? 'I like to hope that being a history teacher – if I found my partner and had this wonderful life I have found – would have made me very happy. But my second answer … I don't know if you can see the picture on the wall behind me.' He gestures to that print of him in full flight as a young man. 'Someone asked me about that, about a month ago: 'Tell me about that guy up on the wall back there.' Maybe a couple days before that particular question had been asked, I actually had this conversation in my mind: John, would you trade places and be that 24-year-old who was so confused and unhappy and scratching his head trying to figure out life? Would you trade places? Or would you be the person you are now at 80? And my answer was, and it'll always be, I want to be the guy I am here now, even though I'm 80. That poor young man had youth, for sure, but he was so confused about what was going on with his gift. I wouldn't want to live even one day like that. I prefer being really happy, very settled, completely in love with my wife, Julie, having raised great kids. It's a sense of being that's irreplaceable.' Legacy: The Creedence Clearwater Revival Years is released 22 August on Concord


Glasgow Times
2 days ago
- Glasgow Times
Creedence tribute and Susie McCabe head to Airdrie
The event, set for September 25 , will see McCabe fresh from her performances at the Glasgow International Comedy Festival and the Edinburgh Fringe. Organisers say McCabe's show promises to be 'bigger and better' than her previous appearance at the venue. The comedy night will also feature Iain Hume, Mick Murphy, and Billy Kirkwood as the MC. Tickets, costing £18, are on sale now at and are expected to sell out quickly. Read more: Thunderstorm warning issued for Glasgow today as temperatures soar Those wishing to attend can contact the box office on 01698 274545 or visit Meanwhile, rock and roll fans can look forward to Creedence Clearwater Review performing The Cosmo's Factory Tour at Airdrie Town Hall on September 20. The tribute band will be celebrating the legendary Cosmo's Factory album, along with timeless hits like "Bad Moon Rising," "Proud Mary," and "Fortunate Son." Having performed across the UK and Europe, including a special performance at the O2 Arena's VIP Lounge in London for John Fogerty's guests in 2018, the band is recognised as the UK's number one tribute to Creedence Clearwater Revival. Their performance promises to be an authentic 60s experience, complete with vintage instruments and 60s-inspired outfits. Tickets for the Creedence Clearwater Review concert are priced at £24 and can be purchased at


Daily Mail
02-08-2025
- Daily Mail
Dave Grohl's baby mama Jennifer Young steps out with their daughter on the eve of her first birthday
Dave Grohl 's former mistress Jennifer Young stepped out with their one-year-old daughter this week. The 38-year-old new mom pushed their lovechild, who turned one on Friday, in a stroller outside of her home in Los Angeles tony Sherman Oaks neighborhood. She was dressed in black shorts and a short-sleeved black shirt, exposing her tattooed arms. Missing from the scene was the 56-year-old Foo Fighters frontman, who publicly announced last year that he'd fathered a child outside of his marriage to Jordyn Bloom. Since Dave's shock admission, the couple has been trying to salvage the union, with sources sharing in February that Jordyn, 49, has 'forgiven' her husband. Friday was also the 11th birthday of Dave and Jordyn's daughter Ophelia, and their 22nd wedding anniversary is on August 2. Dave publicly revealed his affair and secret child in a September 10, 2024, Instagram post. He wrote at the time, 'I've recently become the father of a new baby daughter, born outside of my marriage. I plan to be a loving and supportive parent to her. 'I love my wife and my children, and I am doing everything I can to regain their trust and earn their forgiveness. 'We're grateful for your consideration toward all the children involved as we move forward together.' In October 2024, a source told People magazine that the situation has been 'rough' for Jordyn. 'Her mind is not on her marriage though,' the person added. 'She doesn't trust Dave. She's not wearing her wedding ring.' They added that Jordyn is 'focused on her own life and her girls.' In addition to Ophelia, Dave and Jordyn are also parents to Violet, 19, and Harper, 16. Young was spotted in a white vehicle outside her house A source told People in November 2024 that the musician is focused on working things out with his wife and their daughters, and that divorce is off the table. The source said: 'He's no longer working with a divorce attorney and instead hoping to work things out with his wife.' Another person close to the situation said that he 'loves his family,' noting that he has 'been prioritizing his family. He knows he messed up. It's one of those situations where you don't realize what you have done until you're about to lose it. He doesn't want to lose his family.'