David Cassidy

by Rick Johansen

I watched an incredibly sad documentary on BBC 4 last week. It was all about the late David Cassidy and his efforts to make a new record, as well as documenting his career a teenagers’ pop idol. The years had not been kind to Cassidy and he looked a wreck. I rather wish I hadn’t seen it in some ways.

Cassidy’s fame was first from his appearances as Keith in the Partridge Family and then as a solo pop star. He had youthful good looks, plenty of charisma and he could sing. And throughout 1972 and 1973, he was rarely out of the top forty. His concerts were attended by thousands of hysterical young girls. The music was often secondary. But after his hits like Could It Be Forever, How Can I B Sure? and I Am A Clown, his career subsided. Cassidy wanted to write his own songs. Sadly, no one wanted to listen to them.

He became an alcoholic and, it appeared from last week’s painful documentary, he was addicted to pain killers. He had also gone bankrupt at one point.  Now, his youthful looks had gone, as had his voice. I wondered if everyone around him had been honest.

He must have had some people around him who really loved him and not his image and his money. They must surely have seen over 40 years ago that his career was on the slide and whatever he did, it would never return to the heady days of the 1970s. A pretty face and some decent songs written by someone else could only take you so far. But the people around him must have told him he was still great.

The last time I saw him on television was when he was interviewed by the King of Smug, Eamonn Holmes, who basically took the piss out of his guest who was clearly the worse for drink. I was going to say I didn’t really see the point of that interview but for Holmes it represented higher viewing figures and more advertising revenue. One man’s physical decline into hell was collateral damage. One man’s car crash meant another man’s Rolls Royce. If I wasn’t a fan of Holmes before the interview, I despised him after.

It was obvious that Cassidy’s time on earth was limited. As his alcoholism worsened, he developed alcoholic dementia. There was no way back. And a year ago, he died.

It really was pitiful watching him trying to sing, but h was barely able to speak properly. There was no pleasure in the programme, no smiles. Here was the shell of man who once was the teenage idol of girls all over the world.

Stars are sometimes not allowed to grow old and Cassidy came under that category. There was nothing for him musically once his fleeting moment with superstardom flickered by and it seems he never noticed. And that was probably the saddest part of all.

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