A private wish set to a slow-bloom groove—Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “(Wish I Could) Hideaway” turns the urge to disappear into a pocket-sized prayer you can sway to, not just think about.
Let’s plant the anchors first. “(Wish I Could) Hideaway” is a deep cut—not a single—on Pendulum, released December 9, 1970. On the original LP it’s track 5, written and produced by John Fogerty, recorded at Wally Heider Studios, San Francisco, and it runs right around 3¾ minutes (you’ll see small timing differences among pressings and digital editions). The album, not this track, carried the chart story—Billboard 200 No. 5—and it’s the final CCR studio set with rhythm guitarist Tom Fogerty, the last produced solely by John, and the only CCR album made entirely of Fogerty originals.
Context matters with Pendulum. The band widened their palette here—organ swells, electric piano, and a little saxophone choir all played/overdubbed by John—trading some of the earlier records’ dry, guitar-first snap for a thicker, moodier sound. Place “Hideaway” right after the album’s hits-in-waiting (“Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” before it; “Born to Move” and “Hey Tonight” after) and you can hear the sequencing logic: a quiet room between marquee tunes, where breath and space do the heavy lifting.
What does the song say? Even without quoting lines, the intent is clear: a narrator circling the thought that sometimes the only kind thing you can do for a battered heart is step out of the light for a minute. Not a sulk and not a grand exit—more like finding the shade at the edge of a hot afternoon. That’s why the performance never raises its voice. Doug Clifford keeps a measured, dry backbeat; Stu Cook’s bass walks a straight, unshowy line; Tom Fogerty saws rhythm with that steady carpenter’s touch; and John answers his own phrases with short, flinty guitar replies while the keys warm the corners. It’s classic CCR minimalism—leave air around the hook and let your pulse fill the rest. The production trusts small gestures: a held organ chord here, a clipped guitar there, the band resisting any urge to grandstand. That restraint is the compassion the lyric asks for.
Heard with a few decades on the odometer, the tune lands like a note you write to yourself. In youth, “hide away” can sound like escape; with time, it reads as maintenance—the ordinary discipline of stepping back so you don’t say what can’t be unsaid. CCR were a working band first, and you can hear that ethic in the way they play sadness like a shift: on time, tidy, no wasted motion. A small mercy for older ears is the lack of melodrama. The song doesn’t ask for sympathy; it gives you permission to be quiet.
There’s also a subtle historical glow. Pendulum was made fast by modern standards (about a month) but deliberately by CCR’s: the group built arrangements in the studio, layering those keyboards and horns as they went, and you can feel the experimentation in the gentle, almost Stax-ish warmth of “Hideaway.” It’s a picture of the band right before the seams gave way—stretching their sound, still locked to that unfussy pocket, still anchoring the most private feelings to parts that any garage band could play. The album’s facts back it up: Wally Heider, fall 1970; track five on release day; album Top 5 in the U.S.—and this little song sitting in the middle, doing the quiet work that keeps a side flowing.
If you haven’t spun it in a while, listen for the temperature of the room. The drums sit a breath behind the beat—reassuring, not insistent. The bass nudges, never leans. Keys and guitars trade small courtesies at phrase-ends, like neighbors keeping voices low after dark. Nothing sparkles; everything glows. That’s why “Hideaway” endures as more than “the one after ‘Have You Ever Seen the Rain?’” It’s a modest creed for grownups: when the day turns too sharp, find a softer corner, breathe, and come back honest.
For the scrapbook—tidy and true: Artist: Creedence Clearwater Revival. Song: “(Wish I Could) Hideaway” — track 5 on Pendulum; writer/producer: John Fogerty; recorded: Nov 1970, Wally Heider Studios (SF); length: ~3:43–3:53 depending on edition. Album peaks: Billboard 200 No. 5; final CCR album with Tom Fogerty; only CCR LP with all originals and expanded keyboards/sax textures.
Put it on tonight and let the groove do what it was built for. No big chorus, no curtain call—just a simple rhythm willing to hold the weight until the room feels human again. That’s the gift of “(Wish I Could) Hideaway”: it doesn’t dramatize your sorrow; it steadies it.