You wouldn’t believe it, the singer says. At that moment preparing for her first album release in eight years, ecstatically in love with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the mother of a toddler after dealing with conception issues for ten years, riding high. Suddenly in spring she was found to have a breast cancer diagnosis.
The musician, actual name J. Cornish, is renowned for telling it as it is. The LP, Don’t Tease Me With a Good Time, was intended as an candid account, tackling every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last worked on songs (endometriosis, miscarriage, broken romances, psychological manipulation, suicide) with typical candour. The first single, the song No Secrets, was launched in the spring. But by then there remained a major undisclosed truth. The illness. Later next release, Living My Best Life, came out in May and she was talking to press about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time coping with the disease. Four weeks after she shared the news, and in July she had a mastectomy.
She shoots me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every media appearance, and they inquire, ‘What’s happening?’ and I respond, ‘Well, not much…’” she has just had to postpone shows because she’s yet to undergo cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a photo studio in London. She is wearing a tan faux-leather coat, blue jeans with detailed white appliqués, cream boots and large glasses. Picture motorcycle style meets 70s singer aesthetic. “It seems like I’m in the 1970s and I should have a boyfriend with a big tache.” Easy Rider, I say, thinking of the picture. “They used to call me that!” She smiles. She is sharp-witted, irreverent and filter-free. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is planning to attempt her standup debut next year. “I like entertaining. During performances I frequently joke about the audience.”
Medical Challenges and Discovery
Cornish was getting ready for an performance at the ceremony when she found a lump. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an test, and they told me, ‘It appears fine; your breasts are normal.’ And I was, like, ‘Yet I sense it. I’ve got an achy arm and pins and needles in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they suggested, ‘We should biopsy it?’ The date was March 28, the post-birthday.” It was a Friday. The specialist told her if it was concerning she’d call on the start of the week. By then she had assured herself it was nothing. The way she describes it, it was inopportune to get cancer when she had so much on.
“It was a fortnight prior from launching this thing after eight years without an album and four years without a single. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ 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 reveals, ‘Unfortunately but your biopsy results have indicated aggressive cancer.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ The first thing I thought 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 viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They lead you. You know when you have emergency surgery you roll down in a bed, but this time I just marched with a gown on and my bum hanging out. It felt surreal.” But, she notes, she’s been blessed. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the op. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? Thank fuck I found it early. The surgery happened recently and my right breast now appears as a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” Another grin. “At least the nipple remains.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her breasts, she remarks, are now “asymmetrical. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I felt, why make it worse, I’m already having a difficult experience. Such disrespect! Ironically I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got obsessive tendencies, and I know they’d never be perfect. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
She is no stranger to illness. She thinks her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s used to medical emergencies. Frequently they align with career highs, functioning as a wake-up call, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to be complacent. “Truly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Sit down.’ From a young age, it has consistently accompanied achievements for me; something severe or obscure has impacted my body.”
She recalls to her youth, already starting her career featuring in the stage in a musical (she was selected at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and heart flutters. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She jumps ahead half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has joined the female band Soul Deep while attending the academy. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in recently I had a automobile accident and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a twelve months.”
Oi, I say, wait, I need a moment. At just 17? She nods|agrees
