Jain is a singer/songwriter born in 1992 in Toulouse, France. She has lived in Congo where she finds some of his influences and his taste for melodies and dancing. She discovered Miriam Makeba, who inspired her song Makeba. She also lived in Dubai and Abu Dhabi, before going to Paris to join an art school. These travelsm for sure, influenced her musical style.

Below is the description found on her Facebook page:
“You could have met her in the Congo. You’d have asked her to come with you to visit Mr. Flash, a brilliant artist and keen music programmer who taught her beats in his Pointe-Noire micro-studio. Local rappers would have fired off their hybrid flow of rumba and soukous while she picked out the chords to Wonderwall on a borrowed guitar, like a string of unforgettable love stories posted on her MySpace account.

She could have run into you in Abu Dhabi. You’d have told her, “Come on, she’d have thought that “Love is so simple”. You’d have dreamed of being there in the Funambules theater, where everything is dazzling, intense and radiant… the background for her stage costume, black with a touch of white. Night and purity. Sobriety and brightness. Nina Simone’s sensitivity fringed with Amy Winehouse’s darkness.

You could have met her at her place, surrounded by a synth, looper and MPC. You’d have eaten humus
as we listened to her Buena Vista Social Club and Kavinsky vinyl albums. Before you left, she’d have given you your favorite line, wrapped in a 23-year-old smile with a thousand lives already behind it.

“Don’t be sorry if you lose and don’t be proud if you win.”

Your paths might have crossed in Pau or Madagascar, Dubai or Toulouse, at the Paris Zénith or the
Amphithéâtre 3000 in Lyon, guesting with Seal, Christine and The Queens or Yodelice. She’d have demonstrated African dance to the sound of Eminem. Improvised percussion to Otis Redding. She’d have introduced you to Miriam Makeba, M.I.A. and Method Man. Ethno-jazz versus alternative hip-hop versus Mafioso rap… No melodic barriers for her, no clash of octaves. More than anything, she love contrasts,

meetings, patchworks, reggae slipping into electro, poetic dance, the collision of groove and pop, comings and goings, transits, the rootless, separations, improbable encounters, byways and her childhood circled by skyscrapers and desert.You’d have asked her where you get your mournful vitality. She’d have looked at your charms, the Afghan ring her grandmother gave her and the ‘secret’ one from Senegal, and her Madagascan bracelet, a gift from her grandfather. Her elders promise she such a bright future.

Jain, where is it she’s from?

She’s a girl from everywhere and other places.

Jain, what is it she dream of?

Her eyes are nostalgic, her laughter still a child’s. “Oh, you smiled. Oh, that’s amazing! Life is beautiful

and so is she… so beautiful, she’s so beautiful, too.”

A shy, bold laugh. A laugh that never falters. The laugh of a little girl who knows everything. A
charming, cajoling laugh. A laugh like a note of music whispering, “Come…”"