You can’t imagine it, the singer remarks. At that moment gearing up for her comeback record in eight years, deeply enamored with her current love, and at long last the mom to a little one after struggling to conceive for ten years, riding high. Suddenly in March she was told she had cancer in her breast.
The singer-songwriter, real name Jess Cornish, is famous for speaking her mind. The LP, her latest release, was meant as an transparent story, dealing with every ounce of devastation she’d experienced since she last recorded music (endometrial issues, pregnancy loss, failed relationships, emotional abuse, mental health struggles) with typical candour. The initial release, the song No Secrets, was released in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. The cancer. Later second single, Living My Best Life, was released in May and the artist was speaking publicly about how she was thriving, while all the while dealing with the disease. A month later she disclosed her condition, and in the start of summer she received surgical treatment.
She shoots me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I put out with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m doing every interview, and they ask, ‘Any updates?’ and I answer, ‘Uh, nothing really’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s yet to undergo cosmetic procedures.
Our interview takes place at a photography studio in London. She is wearing a tan faux-leather coat, denim trousers with ornate white designs, beige footwear and oversized specs. Picture motorcycle style meets vintage look. “As if I’m in the 1970s and I should have a man with facial hair.” Easy Rider, I say, referencing the movie. “That’s what people called me at school!” She grins. Jessie is sharp-witted, irreverent and direct. She says she has always been interested in humor and is planning to attempt her standup debut next year. “I like entertaining. On stage I basically roast the fans.”
Personal Battles and News
She was preparing for an appearance at the Baftas when she found a lump. “I quickly sought to get it looked at, had an ultrasound, and they were, like, ‘It looks like nothing; your tissue is healthy.’ And I insisted, ‘But I can feel it. My arm hurts and pins and needles in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they replied, ‘How about a biopsy?’ The date was March 28, the day after my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was bad news she’d contact on the Monday. By then Cornish had convinced herself it was fine. The way she tells it, it was just bad timing to receive a diagnosis when she had a busy schedule.
“Just two weeks before from releasing the album after eight years without an album and an extended break. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I was, like, ‘Oh, it’s a Zoom, it won’t be anything.’ So I join the call believing it’s all going to be fine, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ The solemn tone? And she continues, ‘I’m so, so sorry but your reports have come back as malignant cells.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘That’s unfortunate. What awful timing.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She found the surgery frightening and surreal. “I fear going under. They lead you. During crises you go on a gurney, but this time I just strolled down with a gown on and my bum hanging out. It felt surreal.” But, she adds, she’s been blessed. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the procedure. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? Luckily it was detected early. I had the mastectomy a few months back and my right breast now resembles a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” A further beam. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her boobs, she observes, are now “asymmetrical. The size doesn’t match. How rude! I felt, no need to bully me, I’m already having a difficult experience. So rude! Amusingly I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be flawless. My plans were disrupted.”
Previous Struggles
She is accustomed to medical issues. She thinks her outlook on her diagnosis has been so optimistic because she’s familiar with health crises. Many times they occur alongside peak moments, functioning as a wake-up call, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to take anything for granted. “Frankly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Take a seat.’ From a young age, it has often paired with moments of success for me; a major or strange event has happened to my health.”
She reminisces to her 11-year-old self, already starting her career performing in the West End in a musical (she was chosen at the age of 9). That’s when she was told about the cardiac issue Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as lightheadedness and irregular beats. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and being readmitted at night.” She jumps ahead several years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the female band the group while studying at the performing arts school. “I secured a deal, and I had a brain incident. Then when I was planning to release songs in 2020 I had a automobile accident and my larynx moved up and I lost my voice for a year.”
Wow, I say, wait, I am overwhelmed. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
