You can’t imagine it, the singer remarks. There she was preparing for her first album release in nearly a decade, blissfully happy with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the mother of a toddler after dealing with conception issues for a decade, on top of the world. Suddenly in spring she was told she had a breast cancer diagnosis.
The artist, actual name Jessica Cornish, is known for being brutally honest. The record, her latest release, was supposed to be an candid account, addressing every moment of pain she’d experienced since she last recorded music (endometriosis, miscarriage, failed relationships, psychological manipulation, suicide) with typical candour. The initial release, her single No Secrets, was released in the spring. But by then there existed a huge secret. The cancer. Later next release, her song Living My Best Life, came out in May and the artist was giving interviews about how she was living her best life, while all the while living with her cancer. Subsequently she disclosed her condition, and in July she received surgical treatment.
She shoots me her best “What the fuck?” expression. “I come out with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every interview, and they inquire, ‘Any updates?’ and I answer, ‘Uh, nothing really’” she has just had to postpone shows because she’s awaiting follow-up surgery.
We meet at a photography studio in London. She is sporting a tan faux-leather coat, jeans with elaborate white patches, off-white boots and large glasses. Think biker chic meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “As if I’m in the 70s and I should have a man with facial hair.” Easy Rider, I say, thinking of the film. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She beams. Cornish is quick, unfiltered and filter-free. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is aiming for her initial standup show soon. “I enjoy humor. When performing I often tease the fans.”
Health Struggles and Diagnosis
Cornish was preparing for an performance at the awards show when she discovered a mass. “I promptly visited to get it examined, had an test, and they told me, ‘It looks like nothing; your tissue is healthy.’ And I insisted, ‘But I can feel it. I have arm pain and numbness in my fingers whenever I wake up.’ And they suggested, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the post-birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The specialist told her if it was concerning she’d call on the start of the week. By then she had convinced herself it was okay. The way she tells it, it was just bad timing to face illness when she had so much on.
“We’re two weeks away from launching this thing after years away and an extended break. And she contacted me and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I assumed, ‘Oh, it’s a Zoom, it won’t be anything.’ So I log in believing it’s all going to be positive, and she informs me, ‘Are you sitting down?.’ The solemn tone? And she says, ‘I’m so, so sorry but your reports have indicated aggressive cancer.’” What did you say? “I answered, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. The timing is terrible.’ My initial thought was, ‘I have to survive for my boy.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She considered the operation scary and bizarre. “I hate being put under. They lead you. During crises you roll down in a bed, but this time I just marched with a gown on and my rear exposed. It felt surreal.” But, she notes, she’s been fortunate. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the op. “It’s terrible, but you know what? I’m grateful it was caught soon. I underwent removal recently and my one side now looks like a fruit under fabric.” She smiles again. “The nipple was preserved.”
The subsequent surgery is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her boobs, she remarks, are now “asymmetrical. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. That’s impolite! I felt, why make it worse, I’m already having a hard period. Such disrespect! Amusingly I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got obsessive tendencies, and I know they’d never be flawless. My plans were disrupted.”
Previous Struggles
Cornish is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her outlook on her diagnosis has been so optimistic because she’s used to physical challenges. Frequently they align with peak moments, acting as a reminder, or blow, to highlight not to assume everything is fine. “Frankly, I feel life goes, ‘Things going well? Sit down.’ Since childhood, it has always gone alongside high points for me; something severe or obscure has happened to my health.”
She reminisces to her youth, already starting her career performing in the West End in Whistle Down the Wind (she was chosen at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was told about the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as vertigo and palpitations. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She jumps ahead half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the trio the group while attending the Brit School. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was ready to debut in 2020 I had a car crash and my larynx moved up and I couldn’t sing for a twelve months.”
Oi, I say, wait, I can’t keep up. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
