The first few notes are a promise. Not the crashing, dramatic overture of a rock anthem, nor the hushed intimacy of a fireside acoustic track, but a stately, gently unfolding swell of sound. It is a cinematic, expansive introduction, immediately setting a scene far grander than the folk-pop confines that first brought its singer, Judith Durham, to global prominence. This is how the 1996 rendition of “Morning Has Broken” begins, an unlikely track from a surprising period in the career of one of Australia’s most beloved voices.
To fully appreciate this piece of music, one must place it in context. By the mid-1990s, the former lead singer of The Seekers had long since carved out a versatile solo career, spanning jazz, gospel, and self-penned philosophical works, often returning to the folk heart that defined her early success. Morning Has Broken is a standout track on the album Mona Lisas, released in the UK in March 1996 on EMI Records, and produced by the legendary Gus Dudgeon. The album was a collection of covers of 1960s and 70s folk and pop standards. Far from being a mere retrospective, Mona Lisas aimed to apply a lush, contemporary studio polish to classic songs, providing a showcase for Durham’s remarkably preserved voice.
The hymn itself, originally Cat Stevens’ global hit featuring Rick Wakeman’s iconic piano introduction, carries immense cultural baggage. Durham’s version, however, doesn’t merely copy the template. The arranger, reportedly Ian Lynn, re-conceives the piece, trading the slightly brittle, improvisational feel of the original’s keyboard work for something more structured, formal, and reverent. This arrangement anchors the piece not in folk-rock introspection, but in the realm of adult contemporary grandeur.
The instrumentation is a masterclass in controlled dynamics. The foundation is a warm, round, and slightly dark-hued rhythm section, far removed from the percussive attack of 1960s folk. Instead of simple strumming, there is a prominent, beautifully recorded acoustic guitar that provides a delicate lattice-work of counter-melodies and arpeggios, creating a shimmering sonic bed. When the strings enter—a full, soaring orchestral complement—they do so with tremendous restraint, swelling only at the perfect emotional apex of a phrase.
It is here, against this meticulously crafted sonic backdrop, that Durham’s voice takes center stage. Her technique, always flawless, remains pristine: the vibrato is controlled but resonant, the pitch is diamond-true, and the emotional delivery is profoundly sincere, never veering into sentimentality. She sings the Eleanor Farjeon lyrics, “Sweet the rain in Summer, set for thee my drink and food,” with the clarity of a mountain spring. The microphone placement must have been expert; the recording captures not just the tone, but the breath, the articulation, and the deep, spiritual resonance of her legendary timbre. It is an example of why connoisseurs invest in premium audio equipment—to truly hear the fine grain of such a vocal performance.
The production shines in its ability to balance the intimacy of the solo vocal with the magnitude of the orchestration. Dudgeon, a producer known for his expansive soundscapes, ensures every element has its space. Listen to the way the bass line gently pushes the tempo forward, a pulsing anchor beneath the floating vocal. The mix is wide and deep, making the track feel less like a pop song and more like a devotional tone poem. The song lasts almost five minutes, taking its time, a luxurious anomaly in the hyper-compressed sound of the mid-90s radio landscape. It makes a powerful case for the timeless artistry of a singer who was never bound by fleeting trends.
The true magic lies in the contrast between the voice and the setting. Durham’s history with The Seekers was rooted in a clean, bright, and often cheerfully brisk folk sound, delivered with an almost crystalline innocence. By the time of Mona Lisas, she had moved into a richer, more operatic maturity, yet retained that original, pure light. Her voice is the constant—the golden thread woven through decades of musical evolution. When she reaches the high note on the final phrase of a verse, it isn’t an act of vocal power so much as a moment of pure, resonant conviction, a sound capable of stopping time.
“It is a sound capable of stopping time, carrying a message of quiet, enduring hope.”
For listeners coming to this track now, it offers a moment of profound calm in a noisy world. The piece of music is a balm, an invitation to reflection. It recalls a time when popular music had the scope and budget for such expansive arrangements, where a singer’s technique was the principal focus, not a layer of studio trickery. This version, perhaps more than any other, highlights the fundamental purity of the hymn’s melody. It demonstrates the enduring value of proper sheet music in preserving the structure of a great song, allowing it to be reinterpreted beautifully across generations. The sheer beauty of the performance invites us to slow down.
I remember once hearing this track late at night, filtering through the speakers of a dimly lit café, years after its release. I was caught by the clarity of the voice, mistaking it for a forgotten classic from the 1970s. It felt immediately familiar, yet undeniably grander than its era. That surprise, that moment of sonic re-discovery, is the essence of Durham’s late-career solo work. It’s the sound of a master artist, completely comfortable in her element, delivering a flawless rendition of a beloved song. It is a performance that reminds us that true artistry transcends genre and era, finding the sacred in the simple things: a voice, a melody, and the promise of a new day.
Ultimately, Morning Has Broken is an act of quiet transcendence. It is a fitting legacy for a singer whose talent was always one of remarkable grace and clarity. To listen to this track is to reconnect with the enduring power of a singular, magnificent voice.
Listening Recommendations
- Cat Stevens – “Morning Has Broken” (1971): The iconic, minimalist original version; essential for comparing the two distinct piano arrangements.
- The Seekers – “The Carnival Is Over” (1965): Features Durham’s signature vocal purity, demonstrating the folk-group context she originally mastered.
- Karen Carpenter – “We’ve Only Just Begun” (1970): Shares the mid-tempo, impeccably produced adult-contemporary ballad style with a focus on pristine lead vocals.
- Mary Hopkin – “Those Were the Days” (1968): Adjacent in the folk-pop era, featuring a gentle yet powerful female vocal over a prominent, often dramatic, string arrangement.
- Eva Cassidy – “Fields of Gold” (1996): Similar emotional sincerity and focus on a pure, unadorned voice, recorded around the same time with a timeless folk-jazz sensibility.
- Barbra Streisand – “Evergreen (Love Theme from A Star Is Born)” (1976): For the sheer scale and classical influence of the orchestral arrangement married to a powerful, controlled solo vocal.