You can’t imagine it, the singer states. There she was gearing up for her new album launch in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the parent to a young child after facing fertility challenges for a decade, on top of the world. Suddenly in spring she was diagnosed with cancer in her breast.
The musician, birth name J. Cornish, is known for telling it as it is. The album, her latest release, was meant as an candid account, tackling every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last made an album (endometriosis, pregnancy loss, failed relationships, gaslighting, mental health struggles) with typical candour. The lead track, the song No Secrets, was dropped in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Then next release, the upbeat Living My Best Life, debuted in May and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was thriving, while still secretly living with the disease. Four weeks after she went public, and in the start of summer she underwent breast removal surgery.
She offers me her best “Are you kidding?” expression. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every media appearance, and they’re, like, ‘What’s happening?’ and I’m, like, ‘Well, not much…’” she has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s awaiting reconstructive surgery.
We meet at a studio in the capital. She is dressed in a tan faux-leather coat, blue jeans with ornate white designs, off-white boots and big frames. Think biker chic meets 70s singer aesthetic. “It seems like I’m in the 1970s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, thinking of the picture. “They used to call me that!” She smiles. Cornish is quick, unfiltered and blunt. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is planning to attempt her first comedy performance in the coming year. “I enjoy humor. When performing I basically roast the fans.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
She was planning an performance at the ceremony when she noticed an abnormality. “I promptly visited to get it examined, had an scan, and they said, ‘It seems benign; your breasts are normal.’ And I insisted, ‘But I can feel it. I have arm pain and tingling in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they said, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ It happened on March 28, the day after my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The specialist told her if it was concerning she’d call on the Monday. By then Cornish had convinced herself it was nothing. The way she explains it, it was simply too inconvenient to face illness when she had many commitments.
“Just two weeks before from debuting the project after a long hiatus and an extended break. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Is six okay?’ 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 goes, ‘Please take a seat.’ The solemn tone? And she continues, ‘Unfortunately but your reports have shown aggressive cancer.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I hate being put under. They walk you down. In urgent cases you roll down in a bed, but now I just walked with a gown on and my backside out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, Cornish says, she’s been blessed. Without chemo or radio, just the procedure. “Cancer is awful, but you know what? Luckily it was detected early. I had the mastectomy a few months back and my one side now appears as a fruit under fabric.” Another grin. “At least the nipple remains.”
The next operation is both medical and cosmetic. Her chest, she notes, are now “different sizes. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. So inconsiderate! I reflected, why make it worse, I’m already having a difficult experience. How offensive! Amusingly I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be perfect. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
The singer is familiar with health problems. She thinks her attitude toward illness has been so positive because she’s experienced in health crises. Frequently they align with professional successes, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or shock, to highlight not to assume everything is fine. “Truly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Hold on.’ From a young age, it has always gone alongside moments of success for me; a major or strange event has impacted my body.”
She takes me back to her 11-year-old self, already making her debut performing in the London theater in a musical (she was chosen at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was found to have the cardiac issue a syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and palpitations. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an IV drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has joined the female band Soul Deep while studying at the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a cerebral event. Then when I was ready to debut in the year 2020 I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I was unable to vocalize for a long period.”
Oi, I say, slow down, I am overwhelmed. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
