You wouldn’t believe it, the singer says. There she was preparing for her new album launch in nearly a decade, blissfully happy with her newish partner, and at long last the mom to a little one after struggling to conceive for ten years, riding high. Then in March she was found to have a breast cancer diagnosis.
The artist, real name Jess Cornish, is known for being brutally honest. The record, the provocatively titled album, was supposed to be an open book, tackling every bit of hardship she’d faced since she last worked on songs (a gynecological condition, miscarriage, broken romances, psychological manipulation, suicide) with typical candour. The first single, No Secrets, was released in the spring. But by then there remained a major undisclosed truth. The illness. Later follow-up track, the upbeat Living My Best Life, was released in late spring and she was giving interviews about how she was thriving, while still secretly coping with her cancer. A month later she shared the news, and in July she had a mastectomy.
She gives me her best “What the fuck?” expression. “I come out with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every press talk, and they’re, like, ‘What’s happening?’ and I answer, ‘Well, not much…’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s yet to undergo reconstructive surgery.
We meet at a studio in the capital. She is dressed in a tan faux-leather coat, denim trousers with detailed white appliqués, beige footwear and oversized specs. Imagine rocker vibe meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the 1970s and I should have a boyfriend with a big tache.” Easy Rider, I say, referencing the movie. “That’s what people called me at school!” She smiles. Jessie is sharp-witted, irreverent and blunt. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is planning to attempt her standup debut soon. “I like entertaining. On stage I often tease the crowd.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
She was getting ready for an slot at the ceremony when she discovered a mass. “I quickly sought to get it examined, had an test, and they said, ‘It looks like nothing; your tissue is healthy.’ And I insisted, ‘Yet I sense it. I have arm pain and numbness in my fingers whenever I rise.’ And they replied, ‘We should biopsy it?’ That was 28 March, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The doctor told her if it was serious she’d contact on the start of the week. By then she had persuaded herself it was okay. The way she describes it, it was simply too inconvenient to get cancer when she had so much on.
“We’re two weeks away from releasing the album after years away and an extended break. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I was, like, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I jump on the Zoom thinking it’s all going to be good, and she says, ‘Are you sitting down?.’ That sympathetic voice? And she continues, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have indicated malignant cells.’” How did you respond? “I said, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. That’s not fucking great timing.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
Men have called me difficult because I’m a strong person who understands who I am
She considered the operation terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They walk you down. You know when you have emergency surgery you are wheeled, but then I just strolled down with a gown on and my bum hanging out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, Cornish says, she’s been blessed. Without chemo or radio, just the surgery. “It’s terrible, but you know what? Luckily it was detected early. I underwent removal a few months back and my right breast now appears as a fruit under fabric.” A further beam. “At least the nipple remains.”
The subsequent surgery is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her boobs, she notes, are now “asymmetrical. The implant is larger than before. How rude! I felt, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a hard period. So rude! Ironically I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
Cornish is no stranger to illness. She thinks her perspective on the cancer has been so upbeat because she’s familiar with physical challenges. Many times they occur alongside professional successes, acting as a reminder, or blow, to make her recall not to take anything for granted. “Frankly, I feel fate says, ‘Enjoying yourself? Take a seat.’ From a young age, it has always gone alongside moments of success for me; a major or strange event has happened to my health.”
She takes me back to her 11-year-old self, already beginning performing in the London theater in the production (she was selected at the age of 9). That’s when she was diagnosed with the cardiac issue WPW, which can cause a tachycardia as well as dizziness and heart flutters. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She jumps ahead half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has joined the female band Soul Deep while studying at the Brit School. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a cerebral event. Then when I was about to put out music in 2020 I had a automobile accident and my throat was injured and I lost my voice for a year.”
Hey, I say, slow down, I need a moment. At just 17? She nods|agrees
