The world P.J. Proby inhabited in 1965 was one of deliberate, explosive contrast. On one side, the polite, tailored beat groups were defining the new musical landscape; on the other, the lone Texas-born singer was tearing through the velvet curtain of show business with a voice that was too big, a personality too brash, and a stage presence that was, quite literally, too much for the era’s thin-skinned trousers. Amidst the chaos of his rising fame—driven by transatlantic hits like the raw, R&B-influenced “Hold Me”—Proby made a pivot. He turned his attention to Broadway, specifically to Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim’s towering, hopeful anthem from West Side Story: “Somewhere.”
It was a staggering choice, a piece of music loaded with the cultural weight of American idealism and tragedy. Proby’s version, released as a single in the UK in late 1964 and appearing on his 1965 album P.J. Proby (sometimes titled Go Go P.J. Proby! on the other side of the Atlantic), was no simple cover. It was an act of vocal theatre, a three-minute, sixteen-second implosion of sentiment set against a wall of sound that simultaneously defied and defined the middle-of-the-road pop machine.
The Audacity of Arrangement
The first seconds of the track announce the scale of the undertaking. This is not the clean, crisp sound of the British Invasion. It is the full, glorious sweep of the Hollywood recording studio transported to London—a testament to the ambition shared by Proby and, reportedly, his production team, which included Charles Blackwell and Ron Richards. The immediate texture is heavy, plush, almost overwhelming.
The foundation is laid by a rhythm section that understands its duty is to support a cathedral of sound, not to swing gently. The drum presence is restrained, favouring sustained cymbal wash and resonant tom-toms over sharp snare hits, keeping the pulse steady but subordinate. Crucially, the piano plays the role of a secondary orchestral voice, not a rock-and-roll driver. Its chords are fat and sustained, often playing in unison with the strings to add gravity and depth to the lower registers.
The true star of the arrangement, however, is the orchestral sweep. A host of strings—violins, violas, celli—enter almost immediately, ascending in a yearning, romantic figure that immediately establishes a cinematic scope. They swell and recede with breathtaking precision, a tide of rich harmonic motion that mirrors the emotional instability of the lyrics. When Proby’s voice enters, it is not a tentative exploration, but a declarative announcement.
The Voice: Catharsis as Performance
James Marcus Smith, a.k.a. P.J. Proby, possessed a baritone with the range and dramatic potential of a tenor—a voice that could transition instantly from a gravelly, soulful whisper to a high-register, operatic cry. His take on “Somewhere” begins with restraint, almost an intimate confidence. The opening lines are delivered with a fragile control, holding back the immense power clearly stored just below the surface. This is the velvet glove.
But the moment of catharsis is inevitable. As the song progresses toward the climactic, soaring melodic peak—the search for “a place for us”—Proby discards all subtlety. His vocal vibrato widens, becoming a powerful, trembling tool of emotional intensity. The note is held, pushed, and shaped with a theatrical flair that many contemporary critics found vulgar, yet which today sounds simply magnificent. This commitment to maximalist emotion is the grit beneath the glamour.
“The core of Proby’s genius was his willingness to weaponize sincerity, turning a tender wish into a desperate, all-consuming plea.”
It is a vocal performance that demands top-tier fidelity to be fully appreciated. Anyone listening on high-quality premium audio speakers or a carefully curated vinyl pressing will hear the subtle layers of the arrangement lift, allowing the sheer projection of Proby’s voice to dominate the carefully mic’d room. The reverb is generous, adding to the feeling of space and drama, making the whole production feel larger than life.
The Career Arc and The Song’s Place
By 1965, Proby’s trajectory was skyrocketing—and already unstable. Signed to the Liberty label, he was an American act who had found his initial success in the UK. The singles “Hold Me” (1964) and “Together” (1965) had been driving, raw records. “Somewhere” represented a strategic shift, a move to prove he was not merely a rock-and-roll shouter but a serious vocalist capable of interpreting the Great American Songbook. The single peaked well in the UK charts, reinforcing the public’s appetite for his unique brand of operatic pop.
It’s an important point: this was the era where session musicians, often uncredited, were the backbone of the pop studio. While specific credits for every track remain elusive, we know Proby worked with the cream of the London studio crop. The acoustic textures are pristine; the subtle, rhythmic counter-melodies from the guitar, for example, are played with the precision of experienced session players, carefully layered to add shimmer rather than propulsion. This arrangement is a testament to the skill of the studio players and the power of the orchestral pop producers of the time.
This specific, dramatic piece of music endures because it speaks to a universal truth: the longing for refuge. It’s a feeling that resonates whether you’re a teenager in the 1960s struggling to find your identity, or a listener today navigating the noise of the 21st century. I can recall countless late-night drives, the car radio tuned low, where Proby’s soaring high note cut through the darkness, an instantaneous, beautiful, and slightly scary spike of human emotion. The hope he embodies in the final refrain is infectious, a promise whispered across decades.
His version is arguably the definitive pop interpretation of the song. Tom Waits himself would later state that no one had done justice to the song since Proby’s rendition—a truly high compliment considering Waits’s dedication to vocal grit. The album it belongs to captures a moment of creative and commercial peak, just before the excesses of his persona began to overshadow his prodigious talent.
The Enduring Legacy
“Somewhere” is a glorious anomaly. It carries the theatrical bombast of a bygone era of entertainment—a kind of pre-Vegas, maximalist approach—but delivers it with a soulful authenticity that elevates it far beyond mere showmanship. It reminds us that great pop music, even when produced with a grand orchestral sweep, must still connect on a deeply human level. Proby manages this connection by putting every fiber of his being into the delivery. It’s a testament to the fact that technical talent, when harnessed by uninhibited feeling, can create art that truly lasts. Forget the gossip and the infamous velvet tear; focus only on the sound. This is where the legend lives.
Listening Recommendations
- Scott Walker – “Joanna” (1968): Shares the same sense of dramatic, highly-arranged orchestral sweep and deep vocal commitment from an American expatriate in London.
- Gene Pitney – “Something’s Gotten Hold of My Heart” (1967): Features a similar high-drama, operatic vocal style and a lush, emotional arrangement.
- The Walker Brothers – “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore” (1966): Exhibits the Wall of Sound-esque production and the use of strings to convey yearning and desperation.
- Roy Orbison – “Crying” (1961): An earlier template for the big, trembling voice delivering a heart-rending ballad with operatic scale and intensity.
- Tom Jones – “I Who Have Nothing” (1967): Another example of a powerful, soulful vocalist taking a dramatic standard and making it his own with immense projection.
- Dusty Springfield – “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me” (1966): Demonstrates the emotional depth and orchestral polish found in the finest British-produced baroque pop of the mid-sixties.