You wouldn’t believe it, the singer says. At that moment preparing for her new album launch in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and at long last the mother of a toddler after facing fertility challenges for a decade, riding high. Suddenly in spring she was told she had breast cancer.
The artist, real name Jess Cornish, is renowned for telling it as it is. The LP, her latest release, was intended as an open book, tackling every moment of pain she’d experienced since she last recorded music (a gynecological condition, miscarriage, failed relationships, psychological manipulation, suicide) with typical candour. The first single, her single No Secrets, was launched in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. The cancer. Later next release, Living My Best Life, came out in late spring and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time coping with breast cancer. Subsequently she shared the news, and in early July she received surgical treatment.
She shoots me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I release with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m giving every media appearance, and they inquire, ‘Any updates?’ and I’m, like, ‘Uh, nothing really’” the singer has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s awaiting cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a studio in the capital. She is sporting a light brown synthetic jacket, jeans with detailed white appliqués, beige footwear and oversized specs. Picture biker chic meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “As if I’m in the seventies and I should have a partner with a mustache.” A biker reference, I say, referencing the movie. “That’s what people called me at school!” She beams. She is fast-thinking, bold and filter-free. She says she has always been interested in humor and is planning to attempt her standup debut in the coming year. “I enjoy humor. When performing I basically roast the audience.”
She was preparing for an appearance at the ceremony when she noticed an abnormality. “I quickly sought to get it checked, had an scan, and they told me, ‘It looks like nothing; you’ve got really good dense breast tissue.’ And I responded, ‘However, it’s there. I have arm pain and numbness in my fingers whenever I get up.’ And they said, ‘How about a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the day after my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was serious she’d contact on the Monday. By then she had convinced herself it was fine. The way she explains it, it was just bad timing to receive a diagnosis when she had many commitments.
“We’re two weeks away from launching this thing after a long hiatus and an extended break. And she contacted me and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I assumed, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I jump on the Zoom thinking it’s all going to be good, and she goes, ‘Please take a seat.’ The solemn tone? And she reveals, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have indicated high-grade cancer cells.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. The timing is terrible.’ My initial thought was, ‘I have to survive for my boy.’”
Men have called me difficult because I’m a strong person who understands who I am
She found the surgery scary and bizarre. “I hate being put under. They lead you. In urgent cases you go on a gurney, but this time I just marched with a gown on and my backside out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the procedure. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? Luckily it was detected early. I underwent removal a few months back and my affected breast now resembles a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “The nipple was preserved.”
The next operation is for health and appearance. Her chest, she notes, are now “uneven. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. So inconsiderate! I thought, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a rough time. How offensive! It’s funny because I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
She is accustomed to medical issues. She believes her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. Frequently they align with peak moments, functioning as a wake-up call, or shock, to highlight not to assume everything is fine. “Truly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Hold on.’ Ever since I was a child, it has often paired with achievements for me; something severe or obscure has affected my well-being.”
She recalls to her youth, already making her debut performing in the London theater in the production (she was chosen at the age of 9). That’s when she was told about the heart condition Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a fast heartbeat as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an IV drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She jumps ahead half a dozen years, and teenage Jess has entered the trio Soul Deep while studying at the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a brain incident. Then when I was ready to debut in 2020 I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I was unable to vocalize for a long period.”
Hey, I say, hold on, I can’t keep up. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
A tech journalist and digital strategist with over a decade of experience covering emerging technologies and business innovation across Europe.