You couldn’t make it up, the singer says. At that moment gearing up for her comeback record in eight years, ecstatically in love with her current love, and finally the parent to a young child after facing fertility challenges for a decade, riding high. Then in spring she was found to have a breast cancer diagnosis.
The musician, real name J. Cornish, is renowned for speaking her mind. The LP, the provocatively titled album, was supposed to be an transparent story, tackling every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last made an album (endometrial issues, miscarriage, unsuccessful partnerships, gaslighting, suicidal thoughts) 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, came out in May and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time coping with breast cancer. Four weeks after she went public, and in the start of summer she had a mastectomy.
She gives me her best “Seriously?” glance. “I come out with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m conducting every press talk, and they’re, like, ‘Any updates?’ and I respond, ‘Well, not much…’” Cornish has just had to postpone shows because she’s still waiting for follow-up surgery.
Our interview takes place at a studio in the capital. She is dressed in a beige fake-leather jacket, denim trousers with elaborate white patches, beige footwear and oversized specs. Imagine biker chic meets vintage look. “It seems like I’m in the 70s and I should have a man with facial hair.” Like the film, I say, referencing the film. “That’s what people called me at school!” She smiles. Jessie is sharp-witted, bold and filter-free. She says she has always been interested in humor and is planning to attempt her initial standup show in the coming year. “I love making people laugh. During performances I frequently joke about the fans.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
Cornish was planning an appearance at the awards show when she found a lump. “I quickly sought to get it examined, had an scan, and they told me, ‘It appears fine; your breasts are normal.’ And I insisted, ‘Yet I sense it. I’ve got an achy arm and pins and needles in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they suggested, ‘We should biopsy it?’ The date was March 28, the day after my birthday.” It was a Friday. The doctor told her if it was serious she’d call on the Monday. By then she had persuaded herself it was nothing. The way she tells it, it was just bad timing to face illness when she had many commitments.
“It was a fortnight prior 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 assumed, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I join the call believing it’s all going to be fine, and she informs me, ‘Please take a seat.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she continues, ‘Unfortunately but your biopsy results have shown high-grade cancer cells.’” What did you say? “I said, ‘Well, that’s not great. 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 found the surgery terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They lead you. During crises you roll down in a bed, but now I just walked with a gown on and my bum hanging out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, she adds, she’s been fortunate. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the surgery. “It’s terrible, but yet Luckily it was detected early. I underwent removal recently and my one side now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The subsequent surgery is both medical and cosmetic. Her breasts, she observes, are now “uneven. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. That’s impolite! I thought, why make it worse, I’m already having a rough time. So rude! It’s funny because I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Past Medical Issues
Cornish is accustomed to medical issues. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so upbeat because she’s used to medical emergencies. Frequently they align with professional successes, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to take anything for granted. “Truly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Take a seat.’ Since childhood, it has often paired with moments of success for me; a major or strange event has happened to my health.”
She takes me back to her childhood, already starting her career performing in the West End in the production (she was cast at the age of nine). That’s when she was diagnosed with the cardiac issue a syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as lightheadedness and irregular beats. “I rehearsed between visits on an IV drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has become part of the female band Soul Deep while enrolled in the Brit School. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a brain incident. Then when I was ready to debut in 2020 I had a collision and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a long period.”
Hey, I say, wait, I need a moment. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
