A bright, bittersweet goodbye that keeps tapping its foot even as the heart lets go.
In the whirlwind of early-’70s pop, David Cassidy carried the lead on The Partridge Family’s buoyant take on “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do.” Issued on Bell Records in June 1972, the single turned an already-classic Brill Building tune into another Cassidy-era crowd-pleaser: No. 28 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100, No. 3 in the U.K., No. 3 in Australia, No. 18 in Canada, with additional showings in New Zealand and on the U.S. Adult Contemporary list. It was packaged that autumn on the group’s hits set At Home with Their Greatest Hits, effectively becoming the album’s “new” track amid familiar favorites. For U.K. buyers, it even arrived as a maxi-single that paired “I Think I Love You” on the same side—an unmistakable nod to Cassidy’s star power.
The story begins a decade earlier. “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do” was the signature hit of Neil Sedaka and lyric partner Howard Greenfield, a 1962 No. 1 in the U.S.—all snap and sparkle, complete with that immortal “dooby-doo-down-down” intro. Sedaka later reimagined it as a torchy ballad and landed back in the U.S. Top 10 in 1976. The Partridge Family’s 1972 version lives between those poles: faithful to the original’s bounce, but sung by a young man whose voice could tint bubblegum with a hint of ache. Cassidy rides the melody with open-throated warmth, turning a brisk sing-along into something gently confessional.
A few release details help fix the moment in memory. The single’s chart climb in Britain started the week of July 8, 1972, peaking at No. 3 on August 12, 1972; in the U.S. it settled in as a Top-30 summer hit. On LP, it anchored At Home with Their Greatest Hits (released September 1972), which reached No. 21 on the Billboard 200. Decades later, collectors got a small surprise: this Partridge cut didn’t appear in stereo until the 2013 Bell/Legacy compilation Playlist: The Very Best of the Partridge Family—a reminder that even massively popular records still hide in the stacks with a secret or two.
Musically, the 1972 reading is all bright daylight: handclaps, tidy rhythm section, and those classic Partridge textures that framed Cassidy’s tenor like sunlight on a kitchen table. Producer Wes Farrell—the architect behind the group’s run of radio-friendly smashes—keeps everything clipped and clean, letting the vocal do the heart work while the band keeps spirits up. Session-ace fingerprints are part of the lore around these records (names like Hal Blaine, Larry Carlton, Joe Osborn, Larry Knechtel surface across the period), and the end result is that particular Los Angeles studio sheen: effortless swing with no loose threads.
What lifts this version—especially for listeners who were there—is the way David Cassidy balances charm and candor. The lyric is disarmingly simple: don’t go, we can fix this, breaking up is hard. But Cassidy doesn’t belt; he confides. There’s a smile in the sound, yes, but it’s the kind you offer when you’re trying to keep the afternoon from turning into evening. That’s the paradox older ears will recognize: how many goodbyes were carried on with brave faces, how many end-of-summer romances finished to the rhythm of a song you could still dance to. The arrangement keeps you moving forward; the voice admits you’re leaving something behind.
Placed in the arc of his career, the track also marks how David Cassidy navigated two audiences at once. To teens, he was the poster on the wall; to their parents (and to those same teens a few years later), he was a singer with uncommon gentleness—someone who could deliver a big hook without hardening the emotion. “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do” gave him perfect material for that skill: a lyric everyone knows, a melody you can’t shake, and just enough room to color the corners with feeling. For many, this is the recording that made Sedaka’s line not just clever but lived-in.
And so the lasting meaning is both simple and deep. Love, when it unravels, rarely does so with violins and spotlights; it goes quietly, in small conversations, in compromises you’ll remember later. This track captures that truth without asking you to wallow. It lets you tap your foot through the ache, to remember a face, a beach, a bus ride home, and to admit—now with a little grace—that endings are part of how we learn to begin again. In 1972 it was a summer single; in memory it’s a postcard from a younger self, signed in a familiar hand and addressed to the person you eventually became.
Key facts, at a glance: Lead vocal: David Cassidy; credited artist: The Partridge Family; label: Bell Records; U.S. peak: No. 28 (Hot 100); U.K. peak: No. 3; Australia peak: No. 3; compiled on At Home with Their Greatest Hits (Billboard 200 No. 21); stereo single mix first widely issued in 2013 on Playlist: The Very Best of the Partridge Family.
If you drop the needle again tonight, notice how David Cassidy turns the title into reassurance. He’s not denying the pain; he’s just making room for hope. That’s why this version endures—because sometimes the kindest truth is also the catchiest.