Whether in her music, her art, or her inimitable wardrobe, Daphne Guinness has always defied classification—so it’s only natural that her fourth album would, too. With Sleep, which merges disco strings, ’80s-style synths, and darkly poetic lyrics (something of a Guinness signature), she allowed herself to make a record with no specific focus—nor any expectations, for that matter. “It’s a hybrid of everything,” Guinness tells Vogue. “There’s a bit of classical, electronic, dance. I suppose it’s about one’s musical tastes.”
Fashion fans first introduced to Guinness through her surreal wardrobe (including priceless Alexander McQueen pieces) may be surprised to learn just how long she’s been making music; her debut album, Optimist in Black, was released back in 2016. “I was always a musician—I just wasn’t writing music,” says Guinness. “I was always studying it or singing secretly in my room. It kept me sane—thank goodness for music.” With Sleep, however, she believes she has finally found her sound: “The sonic experience is probably better than any of the other [albums].”
And she’s right: The richly layered universe of Sleep includes songs and music videos dealing with love, loss, and the meaning of time—but in a danceable way. In “Hip Neck Spine,” directed by her longtime collaborator Nick Knight, Guinness grooves while singing about setting the world on fire; and in “Volcano,” directed by David LaChapelle, she recreates the 1978 thriller Eyes of Laura Mars while intoning: “I might look like an iceberg, but underneath, I’m a volcano.” As a body of work, it’s far and away her best yet.
Below, Vogue chats with Guinness about the inspiration for the album, recording at Abbey Road Studios, and bringing her fashion-forward visuals to life.
Vogue: I would love to hear the inception story for this album. When did you start thinking about creating it?
Daphne Guinness: It was a very long time ago—back in September 2021. I had just done a show, and then I went back into the recording studio and it became what it became. [Musician] Malcolm [Doherty] and I had a few tracks and ideas together; we weren’t even sure what was going to happen, really. The album developed slowly in the studio. We were in there for about two weeks, and then we’d let it settle, then come back for another few weeks. I’d written quite a lot of it, but a lot of it were just tunes in my head. You never know what the words are going to be until you’re under immense pressure, or they just present themselves. “Laika,” for example, was crazy. It had these Eastern chords, and I went for a long swim to try to figure out what it is. I was like, This is a Russian love song. This was two weeks before Russia invaded Ukraine. Then I was like, Oh, no! I didn’t want it to be a political thing or anything. But it’s still a good song, and it still stands up.
So it sounds like you really let the album take its own shape, track by track, versus trying to create specific narratives.
Yes. We were way over—I think we were up to 16 tracks at one point. Some of them we had to set aside for another day.
Was there a moment when you began to see a through-line among the tracks, though, and realized they could form an album?
It was pretty organic, the way it’s ordered on the set list. “Time” was always going to have to be the last one, because that last line—“Love is all we need”—says it all, really. You go through everything else—all the storylines, the strings, the bells and whistles—and then you end with a human voice and a message.
There are a lot of different themes on this record—you sing about love, or “Love & Destruction.” What would you say were your key explorations in terms of storytelling?
It’s so funny—“Love & Destruction” turned into something completely else. It’s a deep philosophy on the things that you just can’t get around. There are a few facts of life, but you can make it sound good. You can make anything sound good.
What I got out of that track was that with love comes destruction, no? Can you have one without the other?
It’s true! It’s a terrible truth. But also with destruction comes rebirth. Something new. Those are themes I’ve explored on previous albums. But this album is probably the most realized out of all of them. The sonic experience is probably better than any of the other ones; I probably need to remix the previous three albums [laughs].
Tell me about some of the sounds you experimented with this time around. I heard a lot of ’70s disco influences, and some ’80s synths. But nothing felt too on-the-nose.
There’s both real drums and electronic drums, which are placed like a real human being. It’s a hybrid of everything; There’s a bit of classical, electronic, dance. I suppose it’s about one’s musical tastes.
Were the people you recorded this album with people that you’ve worked with for a long time?
Yes! Malcolm and I were the main duo, and then I had the band that I worked with previously, and the producer, Tony Visconti. I would say there were close to 100 people working on this album, because there were so many tracks at various stages.
I read that you recorded some of it at Abbey Road and British Grove?
It started out at the British Grove, and then went into Abbey Road, where I had a studio for about a year and a bit—until they told me they wanted to give my room to someone else. My landlord threw me out in the middle of mixing! Now we’ve got a new studio at Rack Records.
These are very iconic studios. Are you someone who gets inspired by the space you’re creating in?
Yes and no. It was really a mixing session at Abbey Road, where I needed to do some singing; the songs were already written. I wonder what it would’ve sounded like if I’d started out at Abbey Road. That room is legendary. The piano that you hear is played in studio two—it has an incredible sound to it.
I wanted to ask you about a few songs. But before I do: To me, this feels like your most fun record to date. Is that something you’d agree with?
It is fun! It’s sort of like, when you know there’s nowhere else to go, everything is fun.
Let’s talk about “Hip, Neck, Spine.” I love the video with Nick Knight.
The track came about because I was in a chiropractic session. Malcolm had taken me there, and he could hear the cracks through the walls. He came in and recorded my hip, neck, and spine being cracked—that’s the drum fills. Then, in the initial recording session, I didn’t have very many words, except for the ones you say to your chiropractor: “Move closer,” or “Ahh”—the release. It was interesting to do a song which, on paper, is really simple. Lyrically, I was trying to give a little bit more space to everything else.
I also love “Volcano.” The video with David LaChapelle is amazing.
We did that and the “Time” video in one big, fantastic session. It was like a sort of small art explosion.
Tell me about the video inspiration for “Volcano.”
It was inspired by Eyes of Laura Mars. [LaChappelle] wanted me to play all three parts, including the photographer, but I was really not feeling the brown [skirt]. There was no way I was getting into a brown skirt!
Why not?
I dunno. I’m not very good with brown. I mean, the looks were fantastic. The costumes were done by Colleen Atwood and Alex Fury, a longtime collaborator. The video was done during the strikes, but you could make music videos, so all these incredible people were available. It was a kind of party—we had the best time.
You often collaborated with David LaChapelle, who is one of my favorite fashion photographers. Why is he so fun to work with?
I’m biased, because he’s kind of my brother. We just work very well together. He knows how much he can ask of me as a performer, and he knows what he can get out of me. It’s been almost 25 years of working together. He’s been an enormous part of my life, and I am so grateful to have him in my life. He’s completely different from a fashion photographer. He’s got a sense of humor, and it’s not about the clothes—it’s about the atmosphere. It’s about the fun and the music. He really understands music at a deep level.
I love the line in “Time,” “Life is a dance, time is the key.” What did you mean by that?
David had called me up about three years ago, and he wanted me to write a timeless song. So I thought, Okay, timeless song…just write a song about time itself. It’s funny when you start stating the obvious; there’s some sort of truth to that.
I’m also curious about the lyrics in “Burn.” What are we burning down?
Well, I don’t know. It’s probably an allegory for pop culture today. When you’re spending all your time making music, you don’t really notice what’s going on in the outside world, and what I’ve noticed is masses of things have changed. You go into an album and you come out the other end, and the whole world outside is a different picture. The reds don’t look right; the blues don’t look right. I’m on the path of trying to figure out what happened.
I wanted to ask you about how you view fashion. You strike me as someone who sees clothing as an art form—something deeper.
I really do. Clothing is obviously essential, and it would be illegal to not wear anything at all. But if you’re going to wear clothes, I try and get it right. It is a form of being able to transmit some sort of message. But fashion now, I haven’t really seen much of it, to be quite honest—I’m not really sure what it looks like. I’m in the beginning stages of trying to design some things; I already do it for myself, so I might as well try and make a few extra things.
Did you design anything in your music videos?
In the Nick Knight video, it’s all things from my storage. There’s all of this old Chanel and Gaultier. I often collaborate with people that I’m working with, so I would’ve had a hand in some of it—changing the color of the ribbon.
How do you feel when people label as you as a fashion icon?
I really don’t think I’m a fashion icon. That’s so strange! I’ve always felt that it was a very, very enormous task. I’m very humbled by it. I just try to do what I do, and not think about if I’m this or that. You would go crazy!
I’ve also always wondered if you know how much of a queer fan base you have. I feel like it’s because your work is high-fashion, yes, but it also always has a level of camp to it.
All of the fun people are queer people! I’m queer. I mean, I’ve had three children and I identify as female, but I can be anything on any given day. That’s how I operate. In my world, everything is very camp. If you can’t laugh about yourself, what else is there? Life is not serious. I mean, it is serious. It’s very, very serious. I just can’t take myself that seriously.
This conversation has been edited and condensed.
