If you were hanging out in Flint, Michigan, in the early 70s, you knew Grand Funk Railroad wasn't just a band. They were a loud, sweat-soaked phenomenon that the critics absolutely hated. Rolling Stone famously trashed them while the "American Band" was busy selling out Shea Stadium faster than the Beatles. But tucked away on their 1971 album Survival is a track that throws everyone for a loop: Grand Funk Railroad I Can Feel Him in the Morning.
It’s weird. It’s soulful. It’s definitely not the "foot-stompin' music" the trio was known for.
Most people hear the title and assume it’s a gospel track or a straightforward religious anthem. Honestly, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Don Brewer and Mark Farner weren't exactly making Sunday morning hymnals, yet this song carries a weight that feels spiritual even if you aren't the "praying type." The song starts with these grainy, candid recordings of children talking about God. It’s raw. It’s a little jarring if you’re expecting the distorted bass of Mel Schacher.
The Survival Era and the Shift in Sound
By the time 1971 rolled around, the band was exhausted. They had been on a treadmill of touring and recording that would break most modern groups. Survival was their fourth studio album in about two years. Think about that. Most bands today take three years just to find a new snare sound. Grand Funk was churning out gold records while living in a van.
Grand Funk Railroad I Can Feel Him in the Morning represents a massive pivot. Terry Knight, their manager and producer at the time, was a polarizing figure—to put it mildly—but he leaned into the "people’s band" vibe for this record. The album cover showed the band members dressed as cavemen. It was primal. But the music? It was becoming more sophisticated. Mark Farner was moving away from just "loud" and moving toward "meaning."
Farner has always been a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. Whether he was singing about social justice or his budding faith, he didn't have a filter. In this track, his vocals are arguably at their peak. He isn't screaming over a wall of Marshall stacks. He’s singing with a vulnerability that caught the rock press off guard.
Why those kids are talking at the beginning
One of the most distinctive features of the song is the intro. You hear these unscripted interviews with children being asked about the "Great Spirit" or God. It lasts for over a minute. In the world of 70s AM/FM radio, that’s an eternity. Most DJs probably hated it because it killed the "flow," but it sets a specific, innocent tone.
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The kids say things like, "He's just everywhere," and "He's a big person." It’s charmingly simplistic. This wasn't a gimmick. It was a reflection of the era’s "Jesus Movement" which was sweeping through rock and roll, influencing everyone from Bob Dylan to Black Sabbath (look up the lyrics to "After Forever" if you don't believe me). Grand Funk wasn't trying to be cool. They were just being Michigan kids trying to figure out the universe.
Breaking Down the Composition
The song is a slow burner. It starts with a simple, clean guitar line and Don Brewer’s understated drumming. Brewer is one of the most underrated drummers in rock history, usually known for his heavy hitting, but here he shows incredible restraint.
The build-up is the key.
- The verses are sparse, almost skeletal.
- The organ swells provide a soulful, church-like backbone.
- Mark Farner’s lead guitar solo isn't a shred-fest; it’s melodic and bluesy.
When the chorus hits, the harmonies kick in. This wasn't the "power trio" sound of On Time or Closer to Home. This was a band exploring the studio as an instrument. They brought in external backing vocalists to give it that gospel choir depth. It feels massive. If you listen to it on a good pair of headphones, the separation between the heavy bass and the light, airy vocals is actually quite sophisticated for a "caveman" band.
The Mel Schacher Factor
We have to talk about the bass. Mel Schacher, the "God of Thunder" on the four-string, usually played with a tone so distorted it sounded like a chainsaw underwater. On Grand Funk Railroad I Can Feel Him in the Morning, he pulls back. His lines are melodic. He’s playing the "spaces" between the notes. This is a masterclass in how a heavy rock bassist adapts to a ballad without losing his identity.
Is it a "Christian Rock" song?
This is where fans get into debates. Mark Farner eventually became very open about his Christian faith, but in 1971, the band was more "spiritual" in a general sense. The lyrics talk about a presence, a feeling in the morning light, and a sense of connection to something larger.
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Critics at the time called it sentimental. Some called it naive.
But if you look at the landscape of 1971, the world was a mess. The Vietnam War was dragging on. The optimistic "Summer of Love" was a distant, bad-trip memory. People were looking for something grounded. Grand Funk Railroad I Can Feel Him in the Morning offered a moment of peace. It’s a "deep breath" of a song.
Interestingly, the song never became a massive "radio hit" in the way "We’re An American Band" did later, but it became a staple of their live sets and a fan favorite for those who bought the albums. It proved that Grand Funk had layers. They weren't just the loudest band in the world; they were musicians who could make you feel something other than a ringing in your ears.
The Production Controversy
Terry Knight’s production on Survival is often criticized for being too "dry." The drums don't have that big, cavernous 80s sound, and the guitars are very direct. However, for a track like this, the dryness works. It feels intimate. It sounds like four guys in a room (plus a few backup singers) trying to capture a vibe.
Some fans argue that the "kid intro" should have been edited out for the single version. I disagree. Without that intro, the song loses its context. It becomes just another rock ballad. With the intro, it’s a time capsule of 1971 Midwestern spirituality.
The Legacy of the Track
You won't hear this song on "Classic Rock" radio nearly as much as "Some Kind of Wonderful" or "The Loco-Motion." That’s a shame. It represents a brief window in time when Grand Funk was experimenting with soul and gospel before they transitioned into the polished, pop-rock powerhouse of the mid-70s produced by Todd Rundgren.
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If you’re a musician, pay attention to the dynamics. The song starts at a level 2 and ends at a level 9. That kind of gradual crescendo is hard to pull off without sounding cheesy. Grand Funk pulls it off because they mean it. There’s no irony here.
How to appreciate the song today
To really get what they were doing, you have to stop comparing them to Led Zeppelin or Deep Purple. Grand Funk was always more connected to R&B and Soul than their British counterparts. Listen to the bass phrasing. It’s James Jamerson filtered through a fuzz pedal.
- Listen to the 2002 Remaster: The 2002 digital remaster of Survival cleans up some of the hiss from the original tapes and brings the backing vocals forward. It makes the "Him" in the song feel a lot more present.
- Check out the live versions: There are several bootlegs and official live recordings where Farner extends the guitar solo. It shows just how much "jam band" energy they had even on their slower tracks.
- Contextualize the lyrics: Read the lyrics alongside the events of 1971. It’s a song about seeking clarity in a very dark time.
Moving forward with the Grand Funk Catalog
If this track hits home for you, don't stop there. The Survival album is full of gems that get overshadowed by their later hits. "Comfortable" and "I Want Freedom" follow similar themes of personal and social liberation.
Grand Funk Railroad often gets simplified as a "meat and potatoes" rock band. They were. But "I Can Feel Him in the Morning" proves they were also capable of profound, soul-searching artistry. It’s the sound of a band growing up in public, and it remains one of the most authentic expressions of faith and wonder in the history of American rock.
Next Steps for the Listener:
- Listen to the full Survival album in sequence to understand the thematic transition from the kids' intro to the heavier riffs.
- Compare this track to "Closer to Home (I'm Your Captain)" to see how the band's approach to "The Epic" evolved between 1970 and 1971.
- Look up Mark Farner’s later solo work if you want to see how the spiritual seeds planted in this song eventually fully bloomed in his later career.