In all of the songs which I’ve ever listened to, if I had to take a single song which I feel has summed up the narrative of my life, that song would be Cass Elliot’s 1969 pop classic “Make Your Own Kind of Music.” Although it might not be the hippest or most cutting edge song I could choose, that song digs deep into my soul. A song of resilience and independence, it is a song about the often isolated journey of social outsiders sung with a sense of confidence and positivity. It’s about the tribulations of people who don’t fit into perfect packages. Individualists who are not leaders nor followers, who walk along their own path despite social norms or popular opinion. Despite acknowledging how difficult it might be, the song gives permission to be your own person and gives the perception that maybe you just aren’t alone at all. For the most part, this is how I’ve lived my entire existence, at least until I married someone who has followed a similar path and philosophy in their own life. For years we made our own kind of music, but now make our own kind of music together. “Make Your Own Kind of Music” is far more than just a song to me. It’s a philosophy and a way of life.
But the irony of the song is that while it seemed to be tailor made for Cass Elliot and the narrative of her personal journey, when she recorded it, she was being forced into a creative direction she did not choose for herself and wasn’t at all making her own kind of music. It’s the conundrum of that particular song. It can be inspirational and meaningful for the people who listened to it, but was Cass Elliot really feeling it, or was just finding a way to connect to the material she was forced to sing? Whatever the case may have been, “Make Your Own Kind of Music” is one of the best loved bubblegum hits from the end of the 60’s, and Cass Elliot’s biggest selling and most recognizable single from her career as a solo artist.
When Cass crossed over from the folk-rock genre to the bubblegum industry with her 1969 album “Bubble Gum, Lemonade and Something for Mama,” it was a career shift that she didn’t choose nor necessarily want. Yet, despite her reservations into going into that musical direction, the album and singles released directly afterward contained some of her finest solo releases and are amongst some of the most beloved American pop songs of all time. As Cass Elliot went into the third, and ultimately final, act of her career, her bubblegum music, for better or for worse, kept her in the public sphere and maintained her popularity with a worldwide audience. Cass Elliot’s bubblegum period proved to be pop gold, but at what price?
The year following Cass’s departure from The Mamas and the Papas was a difficult one. Although she was still loved by her contemporaries and her public, and despite maintaining a solo contract with her label, Dunhill Records, mismanaged marketing and a conflict of vision for her first solo album, “Dream a Little Dream,” made it a sales disappointment and the following disastrous Caesar’s Palace debut, which was hindered by health problems and poor press forcing it to close after two performances, put Cass’s future as a solo artist in peril (for the full details on this period of Cass Elliott’s career, read our Vinyl Story on “Dream a Little Dream of Me (1968).”) With two more albums on her contract, Dunhill Records decided if Cass was still to be deemed a commodity that they were going to have to draw the reigns in tighter on Cass’s career. Cass Elliot was going to get a career makeover whether she liked it or not. Mama Cass was going bubblegum.
And here is the conundrum of this move. While I love Cass’s bubblegum period, and while her hits from this era have become considered an important part of her musical legacy, I feel that Cass was pigeonholed into a box she was not comfortable in. When you look at the trajectory of Cass’s career, who had come from the folk music scene, had counterculture success and was fighting to establish herself as a marketable artist, being forced into a bubblegum mold must have felt like failure.
So why bubblegum? Was the authentic earth mother Cass Elliott of “Dream a Little Dream” really that difficult to sell to the public? When we reexamine Cass Elliot’s work, she was far more Joni Mitchel or Mary Hopkins than she was The Archies or The Banana Splits. I can’t help but believe that the reason Dunhill was so committed in selling Cass Elliott as a pop act was that they were never interest in Cass Elliot as a singer or an artist. They wanted Mama Cass, and Mama Cass was a character. A plus sized, kaleidoscope coloured comical character which they wanted to market into their own mold.
But let’s look the ugly truth right in the eye. I feel that the reason that Dunhill refused to sell Cass Elliot as a serious artist was because of her weight. At nearly 300 pounds, there weren’t any women in pop music that was as large as Cass Elliot. In an industry that objectified women, and generally shamed plus sized people in general, there was a misconception that “fat was funny,” and there was a pressure for plus sized entertainers to put up with the jokes, the jeers and the body shaming and Cass was no exception. Since 1967, when John Phillips cruelly wrote “No ones getting fat, except Mama Cass” as the hook for the Mamas and the Papas hit “Creeque Alley,” it was open season on Cass Elliot’s weight as the butt of many a punchline, and Cass leaned right into it in an attempt to survive.
While I can’t find any concrete reason of what Dunhill’s issue with “Dream a Little Dream” was beyond that it was not a traditional pop album as they had expected, I wonder if the Cass Elliot presented in that album was actually uncomfortably real for Dunhill’s marketing department, and they didn’t want to take the time to find a human side to her. They weren’t looking for a songbird. They wanted Tiny Tim or Don Rickles. They wanted a two-dimensional cartoon character, and by wedging her into the bubblegum market, they were trying to strip her of a sense of her own self. But while she seemingly went along with it, she didn’t stay quiet. Cass would voice her dissatisfaction with the move during multiple interviews. In a 1969 interview with Melody Maker Magazine Cass said, “Bubblegum is very pleasant to listen to…but it’s like they say about Chinese food: half an hour after tasting it you are hungry again.” Later, in a 1970 New York Times article she’d go on to say, “I was forced to be so bubblegum that I’d stick to the floor when I walked.”
So, if it wasn’t a natural move for Cass Elliot, why did it work? I believe two factors played into Cass’s success as a bubblegum artist. First, is that Cass had something to bring to the project nobody else could – her big talent. Bubblegum music might not have been the music that Cass wanted to make, but she knew how to sell a song, and if she was going to be forced in this genre than, dammit, she was going to do it Mama Cass style. There was only one Cass Elliot, and she was going to sing the hell out of this bubblegum stuff.
Second, Cass was teamed up with Steve Barri, one of the best pop producers in the business. Barri had made a career out of cutting top ten pop hits with artists such as The Grass Roots, Johnny Rivers, The Turtles, Herman’s Hermits and, most importantly, the godfather of bubblegum pop, Tommy Roe. Barri got the members of The Wrecking Crew for the project, who Cass had previously worked with on her Mamas and the Papas, so that they could somewhat recapture Cass’s former sound. But the thing that Barri really got right was that he wanted to select songs that seemed to mimic Cass’s attitude, story and personality, or at least the. personality they were selling. He seemed to take the time to understand her, and if he was going to be part of this, he was going to choose songs that made sense for her and bring as much authenticity that they could to the final product. In an interview given years after the album’s release Barri recalled, “I wanted to capture who she was … this real fun-loving positive person I couldn’t imagine anybody not loving.” Barri pulled together a well cultivated collection of preexisting songs that had been floating around for awhile but sought to make them once and forever Cass Elliot’s.
Although her heart may not have been into it, Cass’s sessions for “Bubble Gum, Lemonade” were well delivered and produced and the album was dropped in July 1969. The cover, of Cass decked out in a white mini dress and matching go-go boots amongst a mess of smeared pink bubblegum ooze was a far cry from the earthy tones of her solo debut. As an image it seemed tacky and garish but was also playful and fun. The bubblegumification of Cass Elliott was complete, but was the public going to buy it? Well, in all its fabrication, Cass and Barri managed to put a touch of sincerity into the music which would prove to go a long, long way.
For Cass’s first single Dunhill chose “Move a Little Closer, Baby.” A coy declaration of virginal flirtation, it was actually a cover of a single by British group Harmoney Glass which had been a minor hit in Europe and Canada but had done nothing in the US. It was a strange choice for the first single, especially since Cass reportedly hated the track. However, it got to #58 on the Billboard chart, and all the way to #19 on the Adult Contemporary chart. Not exactly successful, but it was the first time Cass had been on the charts at all since 1967. The Dunhill exes were starting to believe that maybe their investment in Mama Cass was going to actually pay off.
But it was the next single, “It’s Getting Better,” which finally put Cass Elliot over as a solo performer. Written by Barry Mann and Cynthia Weiss, the song had originally been recorded by The Vouges in 1968 and had already been released unsuccessfully by an assortment of different artists including Francophone singer Peter Martin and sci-fi icon Leonard Nimoy. But with Cass Elliot on the song, “It’s Getting Better” became a hit for the first time. Peaking at #30, the track proved to be Cass’s return to the Top 40 and got constant airplay during the summer of ’69. Although it wasn’t written for her, “It’s Getting Better” was one of the songs that Barri had specifically picked for Cass in an attempt to match her story, which is why it worked so well in her hands. After the difficult years with The Mamas and the Papas and the pitfalls of 1968, she was suddenly back on the charts and, yes, things were getting better every day. The song rebuilt the bond between Cass and her audience and was doused it in a ray of hope and optimism.
With this narrative in the public sphere, the timing was right for a third single which would ultimately be “Make Your Own Kind of Music.” Also written by Mann and Weiss, it had previously been recorded by New York based group The Will-O-Bees, and again was brought to Cass by Barri with her own story in his mind and knew she could find the truth in it and sell it to an audience. As a woman who seemed to constantly be out of place and unconventional, yet universally loved by all who she met, “Make Your Own Kind of Music’ was filled with both pathos and hope and was a lesson that we could all take from Cass’s life. The song soared to #6 on the Billboard Charts, being Cass’s biggest selling solo record and the final top ten hit of her career.
But, despite the success of the single, “Make Your Own Kind of Music” was not on “Bubble Gum, Lemonade” and, instead, was a single that was left on the cutting room floor and only got released after Cass’s previous success with a Mann and Weiss song! With the huge success of the single, Dunhill did something completely unprecedented by rereleasing the entire LP, only months after its original release, with a new cover and new title! in December 1969, right in time for Christmas shopping, “Make Your Own Kind of Music/It’s Getting Better,” was hastily dropped on store shelves. The new version of the album had a less distinctive, but also less tacky, portrait of a smiling Cass Elliott on the cover, but for the exception of the addition of “Make Your Own Kind of Music,” the track listing was pretty much the same.
So as the 1960’s came to a close, and the 1970’s was dawning, Cass Elliot had defied all expectations, and was back on top. A Billboard charting solo artist once again, for the next few years Cass was seemingly everywhere. Appearing frequently on both variety and talk shows, she’d get her own TV specials, a role in the HR Pufnstuf film and even get animated on multiple episodes of Scooby Doo. Bubblegum music made her a star again, but at what cost?
On one hand, by going down the bubblegum lined path, Cass Elliot seemed to be giving up part of her authentic self and allowing her personality to get lost in a two-dimensional version filled with dehumanization and fat jokes. But somehow, she still managed to find a sense of truth in the music that she was given, and she sold it to the public like the master performer she was.
Of course, her time at the top would be cut extremely short. Cass never had any more chart success after “Make Your Own Kind of Music,” although she recorded more albums and continued to stay in the public eye. But on June 29, 1974, Cass Elliott was found dead in her London, England hotel room. She was only 32 years old. The official autopsy report said that her death was caused by a heart attack, but an urban myth developed that said that she had chocked in bed on a ham sandwich. Even in death the jokes about food persisted. Unfortunately, that would be part of her legacy as well.
But Cass Elliott remains a truly beloved entertainer of another era and continues to cultivate a strong loyal fanbase of followers and admirers. In all the stories told about the hedonistic and often drug fueled days of the 60’s, nobody has ever told a disparaging story about Cass Elliot. She seemed to be one of the truly beautiful people in the music industry, and universally loved by those who took the time to connect with her. Whether she was singing her own truth, or singing bubblegum material forced on her by her record company, her love and magic made it her own kind of music.
