A young voice asking an old question—David Cassidy’s “How Can I Be Sure” turns teenage wonder into a timeless vow, the kind of confession that floats from a kitchen radio and quietly changes the room.
Let’s pin the essentials up front. “How Can I Be Sure” (written by Felix Cavaliere and Eddie Brigati) was cut by David Cassidy for his 1972 solo album Rock Me Baby and issued on Bell Records with “Ricky’s Tune” on the flip. Produced by Wes Farrell with strings and horns arranged by Mike Melvoin, it became Cassidy’s signature U.K. triumph: No. 1 on the Official Singles Chart for two weeks (peaking the week of September 30, 1972). In the U.S., the single reached No. 25 on the Billboard Hot 100 and No. 3 on Adult Contemporary—proof that the performance traveled well beyond his TV fame. (Catalogue watchers: U.S. 45 Bell 45-220; U.K. Bell 1258.)
There’s sturdy lineage behind the title. The song began life with The Young Rascals, who took it to Billboard No. 4 in 1967—an elegant, European-tinged ballad with Eddie Brigati’s tender lead. Cassidy doesn’t mimic that reading; he reinhabits it. Where the Rascals sighed, Cassidy leans forward, smoothing the melody into something both brighter and more vulnerable, a pop lament scaled to hallways and car rides. (A neat footnote from histories of the project: during this period, producer Wes Farrell moved to acquire the Rascals’ catalog—no surprise if you hear how naturally those songs fit Cassidy’s voice.)
What made it explode in Britain wasn’t just a teen idol glow; it was craft. Farrell’s production leaves air around the voice: the rhythm section sits a breath behind the bar—reassuring, not insistent—while Melvoin’s charts light the corners rather than crowding them. Cassidy tracks the lyric like a thought he’s thinking in real time, and that’s the magic older ears still feel—the sense of someone brave enough to say, I don’t know, but I want to. When he hit Top of the Pops in late September and early October 1972, the performance looked as sure as it sounded, sealing the single’s run to the top.
The story behind the choice is simple and human. Cassidy had been open about loving the Rascals; their records were part of his teenage weather. You can hear the affection in the way he shapes Cavaliere & Brigati’s phrases—never showboating, always naming the feeling. He keeps the scale domestic: a voice within reach, a melody you could hum while washing dishes. That’s a big reason the single outlived the moment of Partridge-mania: it respects ordinary life. The chorus doesn’t arrive as verdict; it arrives as a question you can live with.
As a chart moment, it’s tidy and telling. In the U.K., the record entered the listings September 16, 1972, climbed to No. 1 two weeks later, and held for a second week before beginning its long float down—11 weeks total on the chart. Across the Atlantic, it became Cassidy’s second U.S. Top-30 solo hit (after “Cherish”), peaking at #25 Hot 100 while the softer Adult Contemporary panel carried it higher. Ireland also welcomed it to No. 1, underlining how cleanly the interpretation crossed borders.
If you want the ear’s-eye view, listen to the little mercies that make the record ageless. The drums mark time like work you know how to do. The bass escorts rather than shoves. Strings enter as lamplight, not wallpaper. And Cassidy plants the title phrase on a small ledge between hope and doubt; he never forces the answer because the question is the point. That restraint—rare in any era—is why the performance welcomes older listeners back so gently. It’s not nostalgia for a TV show; it’s recognition of a feeling that keeps visiting us at every age.
A few scrapbook pins, neat and true:
- Artist: David Cassidy
- Song: “How Can I Be Sure” — writers Felix Cavaliere/Eddie Brigati; producer: Wes Farrell; arranger: Mike Melvoin; from Rock Me Baby (1972); U.S. 45 Bell 45-220, U.K. 45 Bell 1258.
- Peaks: UK #1 (two weeks, first at 30 Sept 1972); US Hot 100 #25; US AC #3; Ireland #1.
- Origin: cover of the Young Rascals’ 1967 hit (US #4).
- TV: multiple Top of the Pops airings during its U.K. run.
Play it again tonight with the lights low. Notice how your shoulders drop, how the room warms a degree, how the chorus feels less like a hook than a hand on your sleeve. That’s the quiet wonder of “How Can I Be Sure” in Cassidy’s hands: it doesn’t promise certainty—it grants you the courage to tell the truth before you have it. And sometimes that’s the surest thing we’ve got.