Why have we forgotten David Cassidy?

Everyone has a guilty pleasure. Some have several. One of mine is David Cassidy who died six years ago from liver failure at the age of 67, an event that barely made more than a back-of-the-book page lead in many newspapers.

Which is a shame. For at his peak, he had a fanbase on a par with Elvis and The Beatles, looks that sent young girls into delirium, a rich and textured voice that was tailor-made for the three-minute pop single and a charisma, not to mention a personal life, that in its prime gave showbiz reporters round the clock bylines.

Unfortunately, his legacy is less about his music and more about yet another stereotypical pop star tale of a lapse into drink and drugs, an illegitimate daughter he had nothing to do with, a dramatic fall from grace that included concerts where he’d forget the lyrics to songs he’d been performing for half a century and finally an admission that years of high living had cost him his physical health, led to dementia and finally, his death.