Norman Greenbaum may be forever linked to the unforgettable guitar riff and gospel-tinged chorus of “Spirit in the Sky,” but there’s so much more to his story than one legendary song.

Born in Massachusetts, Norman grew up in a Jewish household. Even though religion wasn’t a big part of his life, music definitely was.

He studied briefly at university, but the pull of music was too strong. Like many young artists chasing creative dreams in the '60s, Norman packed up and moved west to LA — the epicenter of folk revival, psychedelic rock, and counterculture energy.

Before launching a solo career, Norman played with a psychedelic folk group called Dr. West’s Medicine Show and Junk Band. Their minor hit, The Eggplant That Ate Chicago, gave him a taste of the music business and a foot in the door, but it wasn’t exactly where he saw his future. He wanted to explore songwriting with a bit more edge, a bit more soul.

In 69, Norman wrote the song that would catapult him into music history — “Spirit in the Sky.”

A gritty, fuzzed-out electric guitar line, handclaps, and gospel harmonies sung by the Stovall Sisters gave the track its signature sound. The lyrics, which talk about meeting Jesus and being ready to die, struck an odd chord coming from a secular Jewish guy. But it worked. In fact, it worked better than anyone expected.

Norman wrote the song in about 15 minutes and it hit like lightning.

“Spirit in the Sky” soared to #3 - topped charts around the world, and sold over two million copies. It became an instant classic.

Norman followed it up with an album of the same name which included tracks like “Canned Ham” and “Milk Cow.”

As the '70s unfolded, Norman continued to record and release music but the commercial magic of “Spirit in the Sky” proved tough to recreate.

He eventually left the pressures of the music industry and settled into a quieter life. In the 70s, he moved to Petaluma, California, where he ran a dairy farm, produced goat cheese, and lived off the royalties from his big hit.

Through the '80s, '90s, and early 2000s, “Spirit in the Sky” found new life in movies, TV shows, and commercials.

While he wasn’t releasing new albums regularly, Norman stayed connected to fans. In the 2000s, he began performing again on a limited basis. He never lost his dry wit or his humility.

In 2015, Norman made headlines again — this time due to a tragic car accident. He was a passenger in a car that collided with a motorcycle in Santa Rosa, California. The motorcyclist died in the crash, and Norman was critically injured, spending weeks in the hospital. The accident deeply affected him, not only physically but emotionally. He’s spoken about the lasting impact it had on him, especially considering the spiritual nature of his most famous song.

After a long recovery, Norman slowly returned to public appearances, embracing a quieter life but still keeping the door open to music.

He continues to live in Santa Rosa, where he maintains an official website, spiritinthesky.com, which features music, photos, and ways for fans to reach out.

Norman has received renewed attention as younger generations discover the song through streaming platforms and soundtracks. The song’s fusion of rock, gospel, and spiritual themes has helped it transcend its era, sounding just as powerful today as it did in 1969.

“Spirit in the Sky” is more than just a classic rock anthem — it’s become a cultural touchstone.

And Norman Greenbaum, the man behind it, remains one of rock’s most fascinating figures: a thoughtful, funny, unassuming songwriter who struck gold by following his instincts and trusting in the power of a good hook.

In this episode we meet and chat with Norman Greenbaum and pick that incredile brain of his.

I hope you enjoy it!

Paul Jones is one of British music’s true originals—a singer, songwriter, harmonica player, actor, broadcaster, and blues pioneer whose career has spanned over six decades.

Best known as the original frontman of Manfred Mann, Paul helped define the sound of the '60s British Invasion. But there’s so much more to his story than pop success.

Born Paul Pond in Portsmouth in 1942, Paul had a bright academic future—earning a place at Oxford. But it was the blues, not the books, that really captured his heart.

Drawn to the raw emotion of American R&B and blues, he immersed himself in music, gigging in London clubs and building ties with future legends like Alexis Korner, Cyril Davies, and Brian Jones.

In fact, Paul was briefly approached to front a little band called The Rolling Stones. He turned them down.

Instead, he chose a different path. Rebranded as Paul Jones , he joined a jazz-influenced band led by South African keyboardist Manfred Mann. The group took on the name and quickly became one of the sharpest acts on the British scene. The band scored their first big hit with “5-4-3-2-1,” then came “Do Wah Diddy Diddy.”

It was an instant smash—hitting number one in both the UK and the US and cementing the band’s place in pop history. Paul Jones became a household name, fronting a string of hits including “Sha La La,” “Come Tomorrow,” and “Pretty Flamingo.”

But just as things were peaking, Paul shocked fans by stepping away from Manfred Mann in '66. He didn’t want to be boxed into pop stardom. His first solo release, “I’ve Been a Bad, Bad Boy,” was a top 10 hit, and not long after, he starred in the film Privilege.

From there, Paul split his time between stage and studio. He released a number of solo albums and never chased the pop charts, choosing instead to focus on artistry and authenticity.

In the late ’70s, Jones experienced a major musical rebirth. Alongside former bandmate Tom McGuinness, he co-founded The Blues Band—a group that would lead a new wave of British blues. Their first record, The Official Blues Band Bootleg Album, was self-released when no label wanted it. But it quickly found a fanbase and helped kick-start a blues revival in the UK. Over the years, The Blues Band became a cult favourite, recording over 20 albums and touring consistently for decades. Jones, with his fiery harmonica and soulful voice, became a beloved figure in the blues world.

As if that weren’t enough, Jones also became a prominent broadcaster. In 1986, he began hosting The Blues Show with Paul Jones on BBC Radio 2—a program that would run for 32 years. His warm, knowledgeable voice introduced listeners to everyone from blues giants like B.B. King and Muddy Waters to new acts keeping the genre alive. His influence on the blues scene through radio is as significant as his work on stage.

In the 2000s, Jones released the critically acclaimed album Starting All Over Again, featuring collaborations with soul legends like Percy Sledge and Eric Bibb. It was a masterclass in classic songwriting, vocal nuance, and heartfelt delivery—proof that Paul Jones had lost none of his fire.

Throughout his career, Jones worked with a who’s who of music royalty: Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Jack Bruce, Jeff Beck, Mick Abrahams, and more. Whether singing, playing harmonica, or narrating the story of the blues, he brought depth, grace, and passion to every project.

Later in life, Paul experienced a personal transformation. He became a born-again Christian and began to incorporate gospel into his musical world. His faith added a new layer to his performances, blending spirit and soul with honesty and humility.

From Oxford scholar to ’60s heartthrob, from blues crusader to BBC staple, Paul Jones has never stood still. He turned down the Rolling Stones, left a hit band at its height, helped revive the blues, and became a trusted voice for generations of listeners. Always evolving, always authentic—Paul Jones is one of the great unsung heroes of British music.

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.