Introduction

Unveiling the Dawn: A Look at Elvis Presley’s “We Can Make the Morning”
Elvis Presley’s “We Can Make the Morning” offers a glimpse into a reflective and melodic side of the King. Released in 1972, the song’s origins trace back to recording sessions in May 1971 at RCA’s Studio B in Nashville. Songwriter Jay Ramsey penned the lyrics, crafting a message of hope and reassurance.

The studio session brought together a talented group of musicians to support Presley. Guitarists James Burton and Chip Young laid down the foundation, while Norbert Putnam provided the bassline. The rhythm section was solidified by drummers Jerry Carrigan and Kenneth Buttrey. David Briggs tickled the ivories, and Glen Spreen added depth with the organ. Charlie McCoy’s talents shone through on organ, harmonica, and percussion, creating a rich tapestry of sound.

Upon its release as a single in January 1972, “We Can Make the Morning” was paired with “Until It’s Time for You to Go” on the B-side. The song also found a home on the album “Elvis Now,” released in February of that year.

While chart success wasn’t on the same scale as some of Presley’s other hits, “We Can Make the Morning” holds a special place for fans who appreciate the King’s softer side. The ballad’s gentle melody and Presley’s soulful vocals create a sense of comfort and optimism, a sentiment captured in the lyrics: “Don’t lose if life is just beginning now / The day can push away the night / Dreams can make the sun appear much brighter / Hope.”

Whether you’re a longtime Elvis fan or just discovering his vast musical landscape, “We Can Make the Morning” offers a unique perspective on the King’s artistry. So, press play, and let Presley’s voice guide you towards a brighter horizon.

Video

You Missed

“The death of Robin Gibb was not simply the result of fame or life’s choices. It was the heartbreaking conclusion of a journey marked by silent battles — struggles written into his very body long before the world ever knew his name. From the start, Robin carried an invisible burden: hereditary illness that made his health fragile. Decades later, doctors revealed the truth — cancer and intestinal complications that slowly stole his strength. Robin faced other challenges too — chronic pain, drastic weight loss, and relentless exhaustion. To cope, he relied on medications and treatments. What began as survival became a cycle: painkillers to endure, sedatives to sleep, and stimulants to keep performing. He didn’t do it for escape — he did it to keep living, to keep singing, to keep his promise to music and to fans. Food brought little comfort in his later years; his weakened body couldn’t fight back. Yet Robin still pushed himself onto stages, his fragile frame carrying a voice that remained achingly beautiful. Could he have been saved? Perhaps, with today’s science and knowledge, things might have been different. But in his time, no one fully understood the toll of genetic illness and relentless pressure. Robin trusted his doctors. He believed treatment would let him continue, if only a little longer. The sorrow deepened within the Gibb family. Barry, the eldest, bore the agony of watching Maurice and then Robin pass away, each loss tearing away a piece of the Bee Gees’ harmony. Robin’s life was a gift — a voice that was fragile yet haunting, carrying love, sorrow, and a rare humanity. But the world often took without seeing the cost. Behind the glittering disco lights stood a man quietly breaking — not from weakness, but from giving everything and asking for nothing. Robin Gibb was not only a star. He was a man of extraordinary talent with a body that betrayed him. He burned so brightly the world still feels his warmth. Yet his light faded far too soon. That is the part of the story we must remember — not only the legend, but the man who gave it all.”