You wouldn’t believe it, the singer remarks. There she was readying for her new album launch in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her recent boyfriend, and finally the mother of a toddler after dealing with conception issues for a decade, on top of the world. Suddenly in March she was told she had breast cancer.
The singer-songwriter, actual name Jess Cornish, is renowned for being brutally honest. The album, Don’t Tease Me With a Good Time, was intended as an candid account, addressing every bit of hardship she’d faced since she last made an album (endometrial issues, miscarriage, broken romances, emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts) with her usual frankness. The initial release, No Secrets, was launched in the spring. But by then there remained a major undisclosed truth. The cancer. Later second single, her song Living My Best Life, debuted in May and the artist was giving interviews about how she was thriving, while all the while coping with the disease. Four weeks after she went public, and in July she received surgical treatment.
She gives me her best “Are you kidding?” glance. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every media appearance, and they’re, like, ‘What’s happening?’ and I’m, like, ‘Uh, nothing really’” Cornish has just had to postpone shows because she’s awaiting cosmetic procedures.
We meet at a photo studio in London. She is dressed in a beige fake-leather jacket, jeans with ornate white designs, off-white boots and big frames. Think biker chic meets 70s singer aesthetic. “As if I’m in the seventies and I should have a partner with a mustache.” A biker reference, I say, recalling the film. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She grins. Cornish is sharp-witted, irreverent and blunt. She says she has always been interested in humor and is planning to attempt her first comedy performance next year. “I enjoy humor. On stage I often tease the fans.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
She was planning an appearance at the awards show when she noticed an abnormality. “I immediately went to get it looked at, had an scan, and they told me, ‘It seems benign; your tissue is healthy.’ And I was, like, ‘Yet I sense it. My arm hurts and pins and needles in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they said, ‘How about a biopsy?’ It happened on March 28, the post-birthday.” It was a Friday. The physician told her if it was concerning she’d call on the start of the week. By then she had assured herself it was nothing. The way she explains it, it was just bad timing to get cancer when she had so much on.
“It was a fortnight prior from debuting the project after a long hiatus and an extended break. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I was, like, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I log in believing it’s all going to be good, and she informs me, ‘Are you sitting down?.’ That sympathetic voice? And she continues, ‘Unfortunately but your biopsy results have shown malignant cells.’” What was your reaction? “I replied, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
Some men find me challenging due to my self-awareness
She viewed the procedure scary and bizarre. “I dislike anesthesia. You’re escorted. During crises you are wheeled, but this time I just walked with a hospital gown and my bum hanging out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, she notes, she’s been lucky. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the procedure. “Cancer sucks, man, but yet I’m grateful it was caught soon. I underwent removal four months ago and my affected breast now looks like a fruit under fabric.” Another grin. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The follow-up procedure is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her chest, she remarks, are now “different sizes. The size doesn’t match. So inconsiderate! I thought, why make it worse, I’m already having a difficult experience. So rude! Ironically I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be perfect. Illness changed that.”
A History of Health Challenges
The singer is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so optimistic because she’s used to physical challenges. They have often coincided with professional successes, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to remind her not to take anything for granted. “Truly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Hold on.’ Ever since I was a child, it has often paired with high points for me; a serious or unusual issue has happened to my health.”
She takes me back to her youth, already making her debut featuring in the West End in a musical (she was chosen at the age of nine). That’s when she was told about the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as lightheadedness and palpitations. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She fast-forwards six years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the female band Soul Deep while enrolled in the Brit School. “I secured a deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in the year 2020 I had a collision and my larynx moved up and I was unable to vocalize for a twelve months.”
Oi, I say, hold on, I can’t keep up. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
