If rock 'n' roll ever had a true outlaw—equal parts velvet-voiced crooner and headline-grabbing hellraiser—it was P.J. Proby.

Born James Marcus Smith in 1938 in Houston, Texas, P.J. Proby has lived a life that most musicians could only dream of—or wouldn’t dare to.

With a vocal range that soared across genres and a personal life that veered toward the chaotic, PJ became a rock 'n' roll legend not just for his music, but for his sheer unpredictability.

Raised in a religious Southern family, PJ grew up listening to gospel choirs and traditional country music. His talent was apparent early on—he could mimic voices, pick up melodies by ear, and possessed a stage presence that drew attention.

He attended a military college where his rebellious streak began to bloom.

By the late '50s, PJ had made his way to LA where he worked as a songwriter and demo singer. It was here that his persona was born.

The name had been suggested by his songwriter friend, Sharon Sheeley—P.J. Proby was the name of her old boyfriend.

In the early '60s, PJ found success writing songs for artists like Elvis. He sounded so like Elvis that some of his demos were mistaken for The King.

PJ’s big break came in the UK when he was brought over by a television producer. It was a move that would change the trajectory of his career. With his jet-black hair, tight trousers, and smouldering charisma, PJ became an instant sensation.

His haunting, dramatic cover of "Hold Me" climbed the UK charts and established him as a vocal powerhouse.

But it wasn’t just his voice that got people talking—it was the way he wore his pants. In early performances, PJ’s skin-tight trousers famously split on stage. It sent the British press into a frenzy. The BBC banned him. Venues grew wary. But the controversy only fuelled his fame.

He was dubbed a bad boy, a provocateur, a rock rebel with no regard for propriety—and audiences loved him for it.

P.J. Proby was never one to stick in one lane. He jumped from rock and roll to pop, country, and even Broadway-style musical theatre.

One of his albums featured a little-known band called Led Zeppelin backing him in the studio.

Despite his raw talent and unique voice—PJ’s career was never a straight line. His fiery temper, love affairs, and on-and-off battles with alcohol and self-destruction kept him at the fringes of mainstream success.

He clashed with record labels. He alienated promoters. He became infamous for being difficult to work with—and yet utterly magnetic on stage.

Through the '70s and '80s, PJ dipped in and out of the public eye. He starred in Elvis: The Musical. He worked with producer Marc Almond, and toured Europe with rock revival shows.

All the while, the myth of P.J. Proby continued to grow. Was he a genius? A madman? A misunderstood star? Depending on who you asked, he was all three.

In the '90s and 2000s, PJ leaned into his status as a cult figure. He released new music, reissued his classic tracks, and embraced the adoration of die-hard fans.

Always the controversial figure, he didn’t shy away from the spotlight—even if it cast shadows. He was never the type to play by society’s rules.

Today, P.J. Proby remains a living legend, albeit a polarizing one. He’s part of that rare breed of musicians who lived the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle to its wildest extremes and survived to tell the tale.

With a career spanning over six decades, Proby has worked with the likes of Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Cilla Black, Marc Almond, and even Led Zeppelin. He’s played both packed stadiums and dingy pubs, belted ballads and growled blues. He’s been idolized, criticized, banned, adored, and everything in between.

From his humble roots in Houston to the swinging stages of London, from chart-topping hits to tabloid trainwrecks, P.J. Proby is a survivor. A rock ‘n’ roll original. A voice like velvet and a life like a tornado. He’s the embodiment of that old saying: never boring, always Proby.