You couldn’t make it up, the singer remarks. There she was preparing for her comeback record in eight years, blissfully happy with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the mom to a little one after facing fertility challenges for a decade, feeling invincible. Suddenly in spring she was diagnosed with cancer in her breast.
The artist, real name Jessica Cornish, is known for being brutally honest. The LP, the provocatively titled album, was meant as an open book, tackling every ounce of devastation she’d faced since she last recorded music (endometriosis, pregnancy loss, failed relationships, gaslighting, suicidal thoughts) with characteristic openness. The first single, the song No Secrets, was launched in the spring. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Later next release, Living My Best Life, debuted in May and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time dealing with her cancer. A month later she disclosed her condition, and in early July she underwent breast removal surgery.
She gives me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every press talk, and they ask, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I respond, ‘Well, not much…’” Cornish has just had to call off performances because she’s awaiting reconstructive surgery.
We’re at a photo studio in the capital. She is wearing a tan faux-leather coat, jeans with detailed white appliqués, cream boots and large glasses. Picture rocker vibe meets vintage look. “As if I’m in the seventies and I should have a man with facial hair.” Easy Rider, I say, recalling the film. “They used to call me that!” She grins. Cornish is sharp-witted, irreverent and blunt. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is planning to attempt her standup debut next year. “I love making people laugh. On stage I often tease the audience.”
Cornish was preparing for an slot at the Baftas when she noticed an abnormality. “I quickly sought to get it looked at, had an test, and they were, like, ‘It appears fine; your breasts are normal.’ And I was, like, ‘But I can feel it. I’ve got an achy arm and tingling in my hands whenever I rise.’ And they replied, ‘We should biopsy it?’ It happened on March 28, the post-birthday.” It was a Friday. The specialist told her if it was serious she’d contact on the Monday. By then Cornish had persuaded herself it was okay. The way she describes it, it was just bad timing to get cancer when she had so much on.
“Just two weeks before from releasing the album after a long hiatus and no new music. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I thought, ‘Oh, it’s a Zoom, it won’t be anything.’ So I jump on the Zoom believing it’s all going to be positive, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she says, ‘I regret to inform you but your biopsy results have shown high-grade cancer cells.’” What was your reaction? “I answered, ‘Well, that’s not great. What awful timing.’ 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 considered the operation frightening and surreal. “I dislike anesthesia. They walk you down. During crises you are wheeled, but now I just walked with a medical attire and my backside out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, she adds, she’s been lucky. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the procedure. “Cancer sucks, man, but however Thank fuck I found it early. I underwent removal a few months back and my right breast now appears as a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The next operation is both medical and cosmetic. Her chest, she observes, are now “different sizes. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I felt, 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 perfect. Illness changed that.”
The singer is no stranger to illness. She believes her outlook on her diagnosis has been so optimistic because she’s used to health crises. They have often coincided with peak moments, functioning as a wake-up call, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to be complacent. “Truly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘You having a good time? Take a seat.’ Since childhood, it has always gone alongside achievements for me; something severe or obscure has impacted my body.”
She takes me back to her childhood, already beginning featuring in the West End in the production (she was cast at the age of nine). That’s when she was found to have the heart condition a syndrome, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as dizziness and heart flutters. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and young Jessica has entered the trio the group while enrolled in the Brit School. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in 2020 I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I lost my voice for a year.”
Oi, I say, slow down, I am overwhelmed. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
A tech journalist with over a decade of experience covering emerging technologies and digital innovation across global markets.
