“Being Together” is a small, sunlit vow—love measured in ordinary minutes stolen from the day, where closeness feels less like romance and more like relief.
On paper, David Cassidy’s “Being Together” is a brief track—barely three minutes. In the ear, though, it feels like longer in the best way, the way a gentle conversation can slow the clock when it finally says what you’ve been carrying around all afternoon. It opens his debut solo album Cherish as track one, like an invitation to step out of the loud public corridor and into a quieter, more personal room. And that placement matters: the first song on a first solo album isn’t just sequencing—it’s a statement of intent, a choice about what kind of intimacy an artist wants to lead with.
“Being Together” was written by Tony Romeo, a songwriter closely tied to the broader Bell Records / Partridge-era sound, but here his writing is softened into something more domestic and direct. The composition doesn’t posture. It doesn’t try to “win” the listener with cleverness. Instead, it leans on a simple emotional truth: time together is not a luxury; it’s the point. The lyric’s spirit is almost disarmingly plain—two people breaking away from routines, choosing each other for a moment, and discovering that this choice, repeated, becomes a kind of home. (Even the title has that unshowy grace: not “being in love,” not “being forever,” just being together.)
The recording itself belongs to a very specific moment in Cassidy’s story. Cherish was released in early 1972 (Bell Records), produced by Wes Farrell, and recorded at Western Recorders in Hollywood. Farrell’s production touch is important here: he keeps the sound polished and radio-friendly, yet “Being Together” still manages to feel private. It’s the kind of track that suggests a singer trying—carefully—to be heard as himself, not merely as a famous face from television. Cassidy had begun to gain more control over his recording career around this period, including contract changes once he reached 21, and Cherish arrives with that sense of a young man attempting to steer his own narrative.
Because you value chart accuracy, the “launch impact” for “Being Together” is best understood through the album that carried it, since the song is known primarily as an album track, not a signature charting single. Cherish peaked at No. 15 on the Billboard 200 in 1972, a strong showing for a debut solo set. In the UK, the album’s story was even more dramatic: it reached No. 2 on the Official Albums Chart, with its first chart date listed as 20 May 1972 and a long chart run. Those numbers frame the song beautifully—“Being Together” is the doorway into an album that, at its release, clearly mattered to a lot of people.
And what did those listeners hear in the doorway?
They heard a voice choosing warmth over spectacle. Cassidy sings “Being Together” with a kind of earnest ease—neither pleading nor swaggering. There’s a quiet insistence in his delivery, the sense that he isn’t selling an ideal so much as describing a need. That tone—gentle, slightly yearning, but steady—turns the song into something more than pop romance. It becomes a portrait of companionship as refuge: the outside world can be noisy, demanding, always asking for the next performance. But being together is the pause where a person can finally exhale.
Musically, the track’s craft is part of its emotional effect. The arrangement stays supportive and uncluttered, letting the vocal carry the meaning without getting crowded. It has the early-’70s softness—rounded edges, bright but not sharp—yet it avoids syrup. The song doesn’t reach for melodrama; it trusts repetition and sincerity. In a way, that’s the whole message: real closeness isn’t a grand event, it’s a practice.
The deeper “story behind” “Being Together” isn’t a scandal or a gimmick—it’s the quieter story of transition. A young star standing at the edge of a new identity, leading his first solo album with a song that prizes time, attention, and care over fantasy. You can feel why it works as an opener: it reassures the listener that, whatever fame may have built around him, this record begins with something human and recognizable.
Decades later, “Being Together” still carries that gentle usefulness. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t shout for memory, but becomes part of it anyway—returning on quiet evenings, or on days when the world feels too fast, reminding you that love, at its most sustaining, can be as simple as choosing to share a little time.