Biography
Among English pop hopefuls emerging during the 1960s, David Garrick possessed the most improbable origins. Whereas Beatles and Gerry & the Pacemakers members had absorbed rock & roll in childhood, Garrick matured inside a household where Mozart and Beethoven formed the core of musical life, leaving Mario Lanza as the dominant childhood influence rather than Bill Haley, Chuck Berry, or Elvis Presley. Born Philip Darryl Core (listed in some records as Darrell Philip Corré) on September 12, 1945 in Liverpool, he joined church choirs early and began formal vocal study at age 14. By 16 he performed with the Birkenhead Opera Company, then secured a grant in the early ’60s that sent him, still a teenager, to La Scala for lessons with Lanza’s former teacher. Exhaustion from balancing training and paid work forced his return to Liverpool.
While weighing whether to continue classical studies or shift direction, he frequented the Cavern Club. DJ and future author Bob Wooller urged him to meet local rock & roll bands active in the mid-’60s. One evening an impromptu aria from Pagliacci earned strong applause and the nickname “The Opera Singer,” yet he still hesitated about a popular career until Robert Wace, manager of the Kinks, approached him at another venue. An audition before Pye Records’ Piccadilly A&R head John Schroeder led to a first London session within a week; because of his age, his parents signed the resulting contract. The stage name David Garrick arose when Wace noticed the Garrick Theatre sign; “David” was judged more suitable than Philip or Darryl.
His debut single “Go” received favorable reviews yet failed to chart. The follow-up “One Little Smile” was praised on Juke Box Jury but likewise sold too modestly to register. After careful consideration, the third release became “Lady Jane,” an Elizabethan-tinged Mick Jagger–Keith Richards composition arranged by Alan Tew. The ornate pop/rock production reached number 20. Attention exceeded what one moderate hit usually generated, largely owing to his striking appearance and the 18th-century dandy persona he adopted. With Wace’s support and costume designer Kay Ambrose—his London housemate—he cultivated a look reminiscent of Patrick MacNee’s John Steed in the color episodes of The Avengers and John Pertwee’s Doctor Who portrayal.
Live performance still filled him with dread. He confronted the fear at a Marquee Club showcase alongside David Bowie, then billed as David Jones, under host Long John Baldry; “Lady Jane” was received enthusiastically. Subsequent tours paired him with Gene Pitney and the Troggs, supported by the Creation and the Iveys (later Badfinger), musicians he had known in Liverpool. A fourth single, “Dear Mrs. Applebee,” climbed to number 22 in Britain and topped sales charts in Germany and Holland.
Continental popularity remained firm through the rest of the decade, but British sales declined after 1967. The Pye contract concluded in 1969, after which Columbia Records issued six additional singles. By the early ’70s he had moved to the cabaret circuit, a setting that allowed operatic and art-song repertoire unsuited to rock venues and thus let him present the fuller artistic identity he preferred. In the mid-’70s he withdrew from performing for what became a 15-year hiatus, returning only at the end of the ’80s with his first new album since the previous decade. Later CD reissues repeatedly anthologized his four Pye singles, especially “Lady Jane,” while Castle Records released a double-CD collection. The long absence, combined with his striking looks and distinctive material, rendered him one of the more enigmatic figures of mid-’60s British pop, comparable to Scott Walker though less widely recognized.
While weighing whether to continue classical studies or shift direction, he frequented the Cavern Club. DJ and future author Bob Wooller urged him to meet local rock & roll bands active in the mid-’60s. One evening an impromptu aria from Pagliacci earned strong applause and the nickname “The Opera Singer,” yet he still hesitated about a popular career until Robert Wace, manager of the Kinks, approached him at another venue. An audition before Pye Records’ Piccadilly A&R head John Schroeder led to a first London session within a week; because of his age, his parents signed the resulting contract. The stage name David Garrick arose when Wace noticed the Garrick Theatre sign; “David” was judged more suitable than Philip or Darryl.
His debut single “Go” received favorable reviews yet failed to chart. The follow-up “One Little Smile” was praised on Juke Box Jury but likewise sold too modestly to register. After careful consideration, the third release became “Lady Jane,” an Elizabethan-tinged Mick Jagger–Keith Richards composition arranged by Alan Tew. The ornate pop/rock production reached number 20. Attention exceeded what one moderate hit usually generated, largely owing to his striking appearance and the 18th-century dandy persona he adopted. With Wace’s support and costume designer Kay Ambrose—his London housemate—he cultivated a look reminiscent of Patrick MacNee’s John Steed in the color episodes of The Avengers and John Pertwee’s Doctor Who portrayal.
Live performance still filled him with dread. He confronted the fear at a Marquee Club showcase alongside David Bowie, then billed as David Jones, under host Long John Baldry; “Lady Jane” was received enthusiastically. Subsequent tours paired him with Gene Pitney and the Troggs, supported by the Creation and the Iveys (later Badfinger), musicians he had known in Liverpool. A fourth single, “Dear Mrs. Applebee,” climbed to number 22 in Britain and topped sales charts in Germany and Holland.
Continental popularity remained firm through the rest of the decade, but British sales declined after 1967. The Pye contract concluded in 1969, after which Columbia Records issued six additional singles. By the early ’70s he had moved to the cabaret circuit, a setting that allowed operatic and art-song repertoire unsuited to rock venues and thus let him present the fuller artistic identity he preferred. In the mid-’70s he withdrew from performing for what became a 15-year hiatus, returning only at the end of the ’80s with his first new album since the previous decade. Later CD reissues repeatedly anthologized his four Pye singles, especially “Lady Jane,” while Castle Records released a double-CD collection. The long absence, combined with his striking looks and distinctive material, rendered him one of the more enigmatic figures of mid-’60s British pop, comparable to Scott Walker though less widely recognized.
Albums
