ODYSSEY MAGAZINE

EXCLUSIVE HERON INTERVIEW & DEAD TO IT REVIEW

19 JUNe 2025 

WRITTEN BY IAIN JOHNSON

Heron has returned, and he's not pulling any punches. The UK-based singer-songwriter and producer's new single, Dead To It, feels like a quiet emotional gut punch wrapped in a sonic dreamscape. Known for his fiercely DIY ethos and genre-fluid artistry, Heron once again proves he doesn't need a team of producers or a shiny studio to create something that sounds both intimate and cinematic.

Right from the start, Dead To It feels like it lives in that sacred, blurry space between lo-fi indie warmth and experimental psychedelic pop. But unlike some tracks in that category which lean too heavily into hazy aesthetics and forget to say something, this one is packed with meaning. The lyrics are deeply introspective — not in the navel-gazing, overly cryptic way, but in that “I’ve been through some stuff and I’m ready to talk about it” kind of way.

There’s a duality to this song. On the one hand, the lyrics talk about emotional detachment, reassessment, and a kind of spiritual fatigue. You get the sense of someone standing in the wreckage of their past, having gone through the war, and quietly deciding to let go of what no longer serves them. But then there’s the music — rich, warm, even oddly hopeful in places. It’s almost as if Heron is offering the idea that growth can hurt and be beautiful at the same time.

The production on this thing is lush. Heron’s signature acoustic guitar — recorded in his home studio — forms the emotional spine of the track, hypnotic and raw in all the right ways. His vocals are layered beautifully, with falsetto harmonies drifting in and out like memories you’re not quite sure you’ve remembered right. And then there are the mournful strings and the gentle piano — subtle, sure, but absolutely essential. They give the track this rising-and-falling arc that mirrors the emotional journey in the lyrics. You feel it building, hitting that emotional high point, then gently dropping you back down to earth. It's a song you feel more than hear.

Comparisons? Sure, you can hear echoes of Beck in the sonic textures, and there’s a definite Elliott Smith-ish vulnerability in the vocal delivery. But honestly, Heron sounds like himself. There’s a melodic sensibility and emotional intelligence to his work that puts him in his own lane. Tracks like We Get High and Wonder Why laid the groundwork for this deeper direction, and Dead To It feels like a full arrival. It’s more saturated, more confident, and more emotionally transparent.

Heron's career has already seen big moments — a deal with Virgin Records, The Brown Room being named Record of the Week by The Sunday Times, features in Spin, and airplay on Radio X and BBC Introducing. But Dead To It feels like a different kind of milestone. Not because of the accolades it might get — but because of how genuinely it hits.

For fans of genre-blending, heart-on-sleeve songwriting, or anyone who needs a soundtrack for shedding old skin and stepping into something new, Dead To It is a must-listen. It’s haunting, healing, and exactly what alt-pop should be in 2025: honest, inventive, and deeply, unapologetically human.

We spoke to Heron about his journey so far.

Do you have an interesting moment or story from your early life that has had a significant impact on your journey into music?

Heron: I have so many memories from childhood that will have impacted my journey into music. It’s hard to pick one. Having said that, there was always a piano at home, and I can’t overstate how important that was to me. I was lucky to be surrounded by music from a young age. My parents always had records playing. My dad was strictly classical, while my mum sang at church and often played the piano at home. Thanks to my older sisters, I also absorbed a wide mix of pop and contemporary music. That contrast introduced me to a whole range of moods and textures. I started experimenting early on, making up little melodies and songs as a kid. Both my parents encouraged me from the start. They believed in me, so I never felt like I shouldn’t try something — and I’ll always be grateful for that. They gave me an environment where I could explore writing and creating without fear of mistakes. That support made all the difference.

Are there any artists who were influential in your musical journey? How have they inspired your sound as an artist?

Heron: There are so many, but the biggest influences are probably Prince and Beck. I’ve also always loved Brian Wilson’s work, and I discovered The Beatles quite late, through The White Album initially. Prince had the greatest impact. He was the first artist I had to hear everything by. When I realised he played most of the instruments on his own records, I bought my first multitrack recorder. I had no idea how records were made back then, but learning that you could layer instruments yourself was a revelation. His music has always spoken to me in a way I can’t quite explain. There are no boundaries with Prince—he made every genre his own, and that made me realise an album could be as musically diverse as you wanted it to be. He became a genre in himself. Beck's early, lo-fi records were just as influential. Albums like A Western Harvest Field by Moonlight, Golden Feelings, Stereopathetic Soulmanure, and One Foot In The Grave taught me that music didn’t need to be slick or polished or made in a big studio to have an impact. They were limited releases and felt more experimental, which showed me it was possible to take risks with your own records. That mindset inspired me to start releasing my own 7” singles on my label, Cracked Analogue.

How would you describe your sound to new listeners? What do you think sets you apart?

Heron: My sound blends lo-fi elements with more produced, textured layers—it sits somewhere between the raw and the refined. It started out very lo-fi, but now I feel like there’s a good balance. I don’t tend to clean things up too much. A lot of my recordings are quite saturated, and I run them through various things to warm them up and add harmonic distortion. I actually named my label Cracked Analogue because it summed up the sound I was getting—maybe that’s what my music sounds like too. What might set me apart is that I don’t really work within one genre. People often give totally different answers when I ask them what style they think my music is. Most of the artists who truly inspire me are difficult to pigeonhole, and I love that. I like to follow whatever idea comes—if it moves me, I try to capture it. My albums are genre fusions that make sense to me. When I’m creating, I’m not thinking about fitting into a mould or appealing to anyone else. Of course, I’ll step back later and ask if it connects, but during the process, it has to be something I love. If I believe in a song—if it’s melodic, has a good vibe, and sounds like something I’d want to listen to—then I have faith that someone else out there will feel the same. I may not know who or where they are, but by being true to the song, I give it a chance to find them.

What’s your creative process? Where do you normally start when it comes to writing and recording? Do the lyrics come first?

Heron: I usually start with either the piano or guitar, or sometimes I build some beats that reflect the mood I’m in. I always have my phone with me, and I use an app called Koala Sampler to quickly record and sequence sounds when an idea strikes. It lets me get something down before I forget it, and then I’ll export it to my studio to build from there. The track Read My Mind from this album started out that way—I kept some parts and added more when I got home. Each album starts with a concept I want to explore, and as the songs develop, the lyrics begin to tie into that larger picture. With Underground Sky, I made a clear decision to create it within a set period of time and knew that would be the title. As I wrote, I could tell which songs belonged to this album and which would wait for the next. In terms of lyrics, I honestly can’t remember ever writing them before the music. Sometimes I have a title first, but usually, the sound guides the words. Once the beat or melody is there, the lyrics tend to follow.

Have you had any challenges or adversities in your life that you feel have shaped you as an artist?

Heron: Like everyone, I’ve had my share of challenges, and many of them have shaped my music in one way or another. One of the big ones was the closure of the label I was signed to, right before my second album was due. As a result, Heron Vs Heron was never released at the time, and it completely derailed my career. Not long after, I developed a paralysed nerve on my vocal cord, which went undiagnosed for over 16 years. Since then, I’ve lost both of my parents, had thyroid cancer, and faced other medical issues. It’s quite hard to measure how any of these things shape me as an artist but it certainly makes me want to make best use of the time I have. For years, my vocal range was a fraction of what it used to be. I convinced myself there was no point in singing on my own records if my voice wasn’t "right." Eventually, after seeing multiple doctors, a surgeon finally figured out what was wrong. I started vocal therapy with a view to having a procedure. Just before that diagnosis, I’d reached a point where I decided to sing anyway— however I could—because I needed to make this record. In the end, I really surprised myself with what was possible. Sure, there were songs I would’ve preferred to sing differently, maybe in falsetto or another key, but I just followed where the music led me. Sometimes that meant double-tracking or layering harmonies instead. It gave the songs a new feel. The whole experience changed my perspective. It reminded me not to take anything for granted—to appreciate what I can do, rather than dwell on what I can’t. That mindset shaped this record in ways I didn’t expect. In the end, I think the songs ended up exactly where they were supposed to go.

Are there any moments or achievements from your career so far that you’re most proud of?

Heron: I’ve had a few memorable moments—mostly tied to actually making the music. That’s always been the most rewarding part for me. I usually create alone, but I’ve been fortunate to collaborate with some amazing people over the years. Those experiences tend to stay with me the most because each person brings some wisdom or says something that lingers long after the session ends. Mastering my first album with Tim Young at Metropolis, and later working on Heron Vs Heron and Not For Sale with Steve Rooke and Sean Magee at Abbey Road, were especially meaningful. I attended every session and got to see the full process—including the cutting of the vinyl—which was incredible. It’s the final stage in any record’s journey, and those guys were so generous with their time, patiently answering all my questions. They also shared amazing stories from their years of mastering iconic records. Working with Jim Abbiss on my second album was another milestone. At the time, I found it tough to let go of certain ideas because I was so used to doing everything myself. But Jim is an incredible producer, and it was a real privilege to spend time with someone of his calibre—someone who simply wants to help you make the best record possible. I’ll always be grateful for what he brought to the project. I also had the chance to write with Ken Nelson (Coldplay, Badly Drawn Boy, Gomez) for a few days, and learned so much in such a short span of time. Ken is a brilliant producer and incredibly humble about the records he’s made. After working with him, I bought a microphone that I still use to this day—it even gets a subtle mention in my single, “Dead To It.” I could go on about that mic for hours, but I’ll save that story for another time! And I can’t leave out getting Record of the Week in The Sunday Times Magazine (UK) for my debut album The Brown Room. Dan Cairns totally understood the spirit of the album. For something so experimental to be recognised by such a respected journalist and publication meant a great deal, especially when I was just starting out.

Which do you prefer, the creative process or live performance? Or do you enjoy both equally?

Heron: I definitely prefer the creative process. I’ve never performed live as a solo act. My entry point into music was through experimenting with ideas at home—I never had a burning desire to be on stage in the traditional sense. I’ve always loved listening to music more than playing it for others. For me, the real joy is in creating something that sounds like a record I’d love to hear myself. Fortunately, when I started,  recording music outside of traditional studio setups had become far more attainable, and I’ve always focused on building a setup that fits into my everyday life. That way, I can record whenever inspiration strikes. That said, if the right group of people came along—musicians who could help reinterpret the songs in an exciting way—part of me would definitely be intrigued to explore playing live at some point.

Do you, as an artist, require fans to fully understand your message in each song, or do you encourage subjective interpretation?

Heron: There’s absolutely no requirement for anyone to fully understand the meaning behind each song. I welcome subjective interpretation—it’s part of what makes music so personal and powerful. My main hope is that listeners hear something unique—something with its own identity that feels different from what they’re used to. And if they connect with the themes I’m exploring, even better. I’m definitely not the only person who’s thought about these things. Each song offers a glimpse into how I experience the world, and I hope there’s something in that which resonates with others. That said, I also hope people enjoy the songs however they want to. Music doesn’t need to be analysed or dissected to be appreciated. Sometimes a melancholic song can be so melodic that it lifts your mood. Other times, a dark-sounding track might carry surprisingly hopeful lyrics. This record is made up of different moods and layers, and I think it can be absorbed in whatever way feels right to the listener. It might hit someone instantly or take a few listens to settle in. A few people who’ve heard the full album have told me their favourite songs kept changing the more they listened—and that’s the best kind of feedback I could ask for. People often interpret songs in ways I never anticipated, and that’s fascinating. My dad once told me his take on one of my songs. He heard a level of meaning I hadn’t consciously intended, but once he said it, I understood exactly what he meant. In fact, I think he was right. He heard what I meant rather than just what I said. On the flip side, someone once asked me if a song meant what they thought it did, and when I explained my original meaning, they were disappointed. That taught me that the listener’s interpretation is often the most important one for them. In some ways, explaining a song can take away its magic.

Does the political landscape impact your music, or do you keep your personal opinions separate from your work?

Heron: The political landscape affects all of us in countless ways, but my music tends to come from a more personal place. I’m not actively trying to highlight issues that divide people—not because those issues aren’t important to me, but because creatively, I’m drawn to universal themes and individual emotion. If I’m honest, most of my records deal with the idea that I know very little about anything. The older I get, the less certain I feel. The more I learn, the more I realise how much I don’t know. Gathering information is one thing, but understanding what it really means—and what to do with it—is entirely something else. Music, for me, is about exploring questions rather than offering answers. I’m not trying to preach or promote a particular message. I tend to look inward and see what emerges. In that way, my songs probably reveal more about me than I even realise. There’s a kind of raw honesty to them that allows for a direct connection with whoever listens. Of course, they won’t be for everyone, but making them in this way means they’re never contrived. I’m not trying to second-guess an audience. If someone connects with my music, they’re connecting with something that’s authentic, not something I packaged for approval.

What are your future plans? Any new songs or projects on the horizon?

Heron: Right now, my main focus is recording my next album. It’s already underway, and I’m really excited about how it’s unfolding. Nowadays, I tend to treat every record like it could be my last, which gives me an added sense of purpose and urgency. I want each album to feel special and meaningful to me personally. Every project is a chance to try something new and express a another side of myself. This next one will definitely be different again. That said, after finishing Underground Sky, I went straight into filming videos for every track, designing the sleeves, and getting everything mastered, so I could release each song one at a time. The idea was to promote those singles while quietly working on the follow-up, so it would be ready by the time the final track from Underground Sky dropped. As I’m handling most things myself—writing, outreach, uploads, social media—it’s taken a lot of time and energy. But I’ve kept recording. One major delay has been a medical issue: I’m scheduled for a vocal cord procedure in July on one of my vocal cords. It’s one of the main reasons I hadn’t released an album in such a long time. Hopefully, the procedure will restore my full singing range. Strangely enough though, Underground Sky was recorded in spite of that diagnosis. I adapted each song to fit the limitations I had at the time and worked in keys that suited the voice I had. At one point, I didn’t think I’d ever sing on my own records again. But making this album proved that there’s always a way. I wouldn’t have released it if I didn’t believe the songs were strong and fully realised. I’m so happy with of how it came together—and I’m optimistic about what’s next.