Growing up, Cara Delevingne always knew she wanted to be a musician. She learned to play the piano and the drums early on, dreaming of one day writing and performing her own songs. And as a teen, she slowly began to do so—even if her introspective lyrics would never see the light of day.

“I was in a couple bands during school, but whenever it came to the songs I’d written, I would lock myself in the bathroom and play them, because I just didn’t want anyone to listen,” Delevingne says. “They were always for me.”

Though her interest in making music never really went away, life took Delevingne in a different direction. Starring in a Vogue Italia editorial when she was 10 led to her being signed with Storm Model Management at 15, and from there, she swiftly ascended to the top of her industry. In the 2010s, she became a runway fixture for houses like Burberry and Chanel (even serving as a muse to the late Karl Lagerfeld); graced countless covers; and then launched an acting career, starring in films such as Paper Towns and Suicide Squad before making her West End debut in Cabaret in 2024.

But now, Delevingne is rekindling her first love.

This morning, Delevingne released two singles—“I Forgot” and “Out of My Head”—in a joint seven-minute music video, introducing fans to her distinct sound and point of view as a recording artist. Directed by Jessica Lee Gagné, the surreal and cinematic video sees Delevingne take a bold swing, combining her vulnerable lyrics with a distorted, electronic feel, all wrapped up in one trippy short film. Delevingne herself describes her sensibility best: “You have one chance to make an entrance, so you might as well make it flashy.”

And this is only the start. With a tour kicking off in June, and her full album dropping later this summer via Warner Records, Delevingne is all in on her next chapter. “I wanted the album to feel like a rebirth—like starting fresh,” she says.

Here, Vogue chats with Delevingne about her new music, cultivating her sound, and touring life. Plus, see exclusive behind-the-scenes photos from the making of her new video.

Vogue: I would love to start by hearing why this felt like the right moment to start making music again. I read that you’ve always dabbled, but this feels like a full commitment.

Cara Delevingne: It was more like, Why am I not? I guess it’s never the right time—I was never going to be “ready”—but I always knew that I would one day. I knew that I had a lot of work to do on myself, especially as an artist, to know your perspective and what you stand for. Music is an incredible escape for me, a healthy one. It always has been. For people to be able to, I hope, listen to [my music] and feel that same respite—whether it be the craziness of your own mind, or the world around us—if I can be that for anyone, that is a dream come true.

Do you have an earliest memory of making music?

Apparently on the millennium year, 2000, I was at a party where Andrew Lloyd Webber was playing piano at midnight. I was eight at the time, and I decided to get up and sit on the piano next to him and start playing. I definitely had confidence—I wouldn’t do that now! I loved performing. But I think my real love [of music] came from writing first. I started playing the drums at about seven or eight, because there was something about it that was really opposite of how I’d been brought up, in terms of the noise and the feral nature of it. I wasn’t someone that loved to stick to a certain time signature: I would play for the beat that my heart was going on. It was a way of communicating that I didn’t even know was possible.

For the songs that ended up on this forthcoming album—are they all recent ones, or were they songs you’ve written from years back?

The opening track is a poem I wrote in my late teens or early 20s. It was one of the first times I ever spoke about mental health. A lot [of the songs] are from my Notes app; my notes, like most people’s, are a graveyard of random stuff—they’re kind of like a time machine. I used a lot of that as ideas and as building blocks, even if it didn’t make sense anymore. Going through it all was a real experience. But most of the songs were written in the last three or four years.

Let’s talk about the two lead singles. What’s the story behind “I Forgot”?

It was the first week I had started recording again—it had been a couple of years—and I was working with different people every day. I walked into the studio and said, “I forgot the world is real,” and that was the song we wrote that day. I don’t tend to plan what I write when I go in the studio. I really try and use whatever happens while we’re there, or whatever feelings come up. I tend to go for really big ideas that ultimately don’t work, but end up being something else, or expose the fragility and innocence behind a more intense emotion. At that time, I was just a real exposed nerve, and [wanted to write about] how sensitive I felt.

Do you tend to start with lyrics and bring in the production afterwards?

There isn’t really a method; it changes with every song. Sometimes I’ll know from the beginning that I want a song to have the influence of a drum or a bass track underneath—or that I want to have a bridge that completely breaks time, and feels like a drug-induced jazz orgy. It depends where you start from. I have so many random voice notes of things I’ve recorded while I’m peeing, or from waking up in the middle of the night. Sometimes the simplest things are the best.

Let’s talk about “Out of My Head,” and the meaning behind that track.

With that song, I actually imagined a video first. It definitely was not the video that was made, but I had this image of a last supper, where people are talking but no one is really saying what they really feel—almost like they’re animatronic heads. The song was originally called “Talking Heads.” It’s about that feeling when, let’s say you have a distant relationship with your family, and you go home and you disassociate in the moment. Getting “out of my head” is also an affirmation that I have daily: I try to practice meditation to constantly do that.

It’s interesting that you’re releasing the two songs together—why did you feel like both should be treated as one?

It felt like a right segue. The first half of the album is that way: I didn’t want people to know when a song finished or one began, because also that’s how my feelings were working at the time. It wasn’t like, “Oh, I’m angry. Oh, now I’m sad.” All of these things rolled into one another.

Sonically, both songs are very distinct, and I’m curious if there’s anything that inspired the direction of the production.

I’ve always been drawn to female singer-songwriters, especially the ’90s era—women finding their power in their voice and frustration and anger. But also listening to pop music and going to raves—you’re going to hear all of it in there too, I hope.

Let’s talk about the amazing video, which is quite cinematic and surreal. How did you find the director Jessica, and what story did you want to tell?

I had watched her episodes of Severance, and I remember putting the whole thing on mute and playing my songs over top. I was like, “Wait, this is a match made in heaven.” So I started stalking her: I went to her Instagram, and made a mood board with a lot of images from her page. We got on the phone and she said politely, “I’m really busy, and I’m not really trying to be a music video director.” I was like, “Totally understand. Just take a listen and see if you resonate with any of it.” From there it was kind of kismet and amazing—all of it felt very right.

The video is really trippy and artistic, and it’s definitely not a “safe” first video. Was it important for you as an artist to come in hot?

Yeah, I mean, it’s a big swing. Coming from movies and fashion, I have a taste level where I just like expensive things. It wasn’t about making an expensive video, but I was like, This song is about something so much bigger than making a realistic interpretation of what the song’s about. I wanted it to feel super surreal, like a dream. Once I’m passionate about something, there’s no deterring me. I’m very stubborn in that way. I’ve always [enjoyed taking risks]. The most growth I’ve ever done is through making mistakes, which really lends itself to being a musician.

Was the video as fun to make as it looked?

Fun, yes. Hard, yes. And worth it. We were in Montreal for five days, and it all came together in the craziest way. We were able to get into one of the biggest department stores that had closed, and we rented out the entire thing. It had all of these old mannequins in it. One night we also decided to shoot outside in the forest, and there was a blizzard that looked incredible. Stuff like that just happened—stuff that definitely wasn’t in the budget, but people would pay so much money to have. This was the first time I’ve ever filmed something where it wasn’t for anyone else—I paid for it. I’m quite a nervous person, but before the first shot, it was the clearest I felt. I was like, Oh, I’m meant to be here.

The video kind of reminds me of the glory days of MTV, when artists really went hard with their videos and spent big budgets on them. Did you have any favorite videos growing up?

Some of those early videos would be “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, or Jamie xx’s incredible videos. In the music video era, I really loved hip-hop so much. It just seemed like so much fun, whereas now it seems quite like a copy-and-paste method to doing a video. I’ve been lucky enough to direct one or two, and I would love to direct my own at some point.

Looking ahead, can you give us a teaser of what to expect on the rest of the album, when it drops later this summer?

There’s a through line, for sure, but with each song you don’t really know where it’s going to go. It takes a lot of twists and turns. It stretches from introspective fear and pain to the internal conflict of doing the right or the wrong thing, to saying fuck it and just enjoying yourself. There’s songs about discovering sexuality within oneself again, or trying to navigate abusive relationships. The last song on the album is probably the most pop-leaning, and it’s a love song about my girlfriend [Minke], which I honestly wrote to annoy her. She hates grand gestures.

You, I assume, have a lot of friends in the music world. Did you play the album for any of them to get their opinions?

At some points I’ve sent songs to people, but I wasn’t really opening up to people to have an opinion. It wasn’t really something I was interested in. The only opinion I really cared about while making it was my partner’s. She’s a musician that I really look up to: She’s so beyond talented, and has a vocabulary with music that I am still getting used to and understanding. And she’s also just brutally honest with me, which I really love. No one else’s opinion really mattered.

You’re about to head out on tour this summer. Are you excited or nervous for life on the road?

I have always wanted to go on tour, and we’re starting small, which I’m excited about. Honestly, sometimes it’s harder when you can see everyone’s face and really feel them. These past two weeks, I’ve been so cripplingly nervous, but all of that goes away when you do a show—I had my first show last night. I’m excited because my fans are incredible. We’ve got a girl band, and they’re such talented musicians—to be up there with all women will be really fun.

Will you be rocking any particular tour fashions? Was there a specific direction there?

It’s not a fashion-forward campaign at all—I didn’t want it to be. With this album, I was like, “Can I do the whole thing naked?” That’s what felt the most me. As soon as you put clothing on something, it slightly changes the timbre of the person you are. Using fashion in a way that felt like I was leading toward something felt wrong. That’s why in the video, I’m just wearing jeans and a shirt with a harness. I didn’t want people to be like, “Oh, what is she wearing?” But I do think I can definitely heavily lean into fashion at some point. As I get older, it will be really interesting to play with that, to have ownership of that back. But to start off, I wanted the album to feel like a rebirth—like starting fresh.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.