Sometimes a cover song just hits different. You know the feeling. You’re listening to a classic, something you’ve heard a thousand times by the original artist, and then someone else steps up to the mic and completely recontextualizes the entire thing. That’s exactly what happened when Jewel took on John Hiatt’s legendary ballad.
Jewel Have a Little Faith in Me isn't just a casual tribute; it's a masterclass in vocal restraint and emotional delivery.
Hiatt wrote the song in the late eighties during a pretty dark period of his life. It was a plea for grace. When Jewel tackled it years later—most notably for the Phenomenon soundtrack in 1996—she brought this crystalline, folk-pop vulnerability that made the lyrics feel brand new. It wasn't about the grit of a man at the end of his rope anymore. Instead, it became a soft, almost prayer-like request for trust.
Why this version sticks in your head
Most people remember Jewel for the yodeling in "Stand Still, Look Pretty" or the massive radio success of Pieces of You. But her ability to interpret other people's writing is a bit of an underrated superpower. Honestly, covering John Hiatt is a massive risk. His voice is gravelly, soulful, and deeply masculine. If you try to copy him, you lose.
Jewel didn't try to be Hiatt. She stripped the production back. She let her vibrato do the heavy lifting.
If you listen closely to the recording, especially the version featured on her 2003 compilation Greatest Hits, there’s a specific way she breathes between the lines. It feels intimate. Like she’s sitting right there. That’s why it worked so well for a movie like Phenomenon. The film is all about extraordinary things happening to an ordinary guy, and this song captures that "please believe in the impossible" vibe perfectly.
The John Hiatt connection
You can't talk about Jewel's version without giving credit to the source. John Hiatt wrote "Have a Little Faith in Me" in 1987 for his album Bring the Family. It was a career-defining moment for him. He had just gotten sober. He didn't have a record deal. He walked into the studio with just a piano and poured his soul out.
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Artists love this song. Everyone from Joe Cocker to Mandy Moore to Chaka Khan has taken a swing at it. But Jewel’s version occupies a specific space in the 90s cultural zeitgeist. It sits right alongside the rise of the Lilith Fair era, where female singer-songwriters were reclaiming the charts with raw, acoustic-driven storytelling.
Breaking down the performance
Let’s talk about the technical side for a second, though I hate getting too bogged down in music theory when the "feel" is what matters.
Jewel starts the song in a lower register than you might expect. She stays there for a while. It builds. By the time she hits the bridge, she’s using that signature "Jewel" flip into her head voice. It’s effective. It’s not over-produced. In an era where everything was starting to sound like a shiny boy band or a grunge scream, this was a breath of fresh air.
- The piano arrangement is sparse.
- The tempo is slightly slower than the original.
- The focus is 100% on the lyricism.
She treats the words with a kind of reverence. When she sings "When the road gets dark / And you can no longer see," you actually believe she's been there. Maybe it's because of her own backstory—living in her van, the years of struggle before the multi-platinum success. She isn't just singing notes; she’s singing experience.
What most people miss about this track
A lot of casual listeners assume this was a lead single from one of her main albums. It wasn't. It was a soundtrack contribution that took on a life of its own. Soundtracks in the 90s were a massive deal. Think about The Bodyguard or City of Angels. Producers would hand-pick artists to cover classics to give the film an emotional anchor.
Robbie Robertson (of The Band fame) produced the Phenomenon soundtrack. He knew what he was doing. Pairing Jewel with Hiatt’s writing was a stroke of genius because it bridged the gap between classic Americana and the new pop-folk movement.
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It’s also worth noting that this cover helped introduce a whole new generation to John Hiatt. That’s the beauty of a great cover. It’s a bridge. It connects the past to the present.
The legacy of Jewel's interpretation
Is it better than the original? That’s a trap question. Music isn’t a competition. Hiatt’s version is the definitive "soul-crushed" version. Jewel’s version is the "hopeful" version. Both are necessary.
Interestingly, Jewel has kept this song in her repertoire for decades. If you catch her live, there’s a good chance you’ll hear it. It has outlasted many of her own minor hits from the same era. Why? Because the sentiment is universal. Everyone, at some point, has to look at someone they love and say, "I know I've messed up, or things are hard, but just give me a chance."
How to appreciate the song today
If you want to really "get" this track, don't just stream it on a crappy phone speaker while you're doing dishes.
- Get some decent headphones.
- Find the version from the Phenomenon soundtrack or the Greatest Hits album.
- Listen to John Hiatt’s original first.
- Then listen to Jewel.
You’ll hear the conversation between the two versions. You’ll hear what she added—the softness, the vulnerability, the 90s folk aesthetic.
It’s a reminder that Jewel was always more than just a girl with a guitar and a hit about her hands. She was a stylist. She understood the weight of words. Even when those words weren't hers, she made them feel like they were.
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Actionable steps for music lovers
If Jewel’s rendition of this song resonates with you, there are a few ways to dive deeper into this specific corner of music history.
First, check out the rest of the Phenomenon soundtrack. It includes a legendary collaboration between Eric Clapton and Babyface ("Change the World") and is essentially a time capsule of mid-90s adult contemporary excellence.
Second, look into the songwriting of John Hiatt. If you like "Have a Little Faith in Me," listen to "Feels Like Rain" or "Thing Called Love." Understanding the writer helps you appreciate the performer even more.
Finally, revisit Jewel's early live bootlegs. Before her sound shifted toward pop and country later in her career, she was doing incredible, raw covers in coffeehouses. Those recordings capture the same magic found in her Hiatt cover—just a voice, a story, and a whole lot of heart.
The track remains a testament to the power of a simple melody. It doesn't need fireworks. It doesn't need a viral TikTok dance. It just needs someone to sing it like they mean it. And Jewel definitely meant it.
Next Steps for Discovery:
To see the full evolution of Jewel's vocal style, compare her 1996 studio version of this song with a live performance from her Picking Up the Pieces tour. The way she has aged into the song adds even more weight to the lyrics. You can also look for the Joe Cocker version if you want to see how a more blues-rock approach changes the dynamic of the "faith" being requested in the lyrics.