The Herons Fly West

Taking St Andrews with them

The Herons have cultivated a name for themselves, providing “punk for undergraduates” in St Andrews. You may find them playing student haunts, perhaps in Sandy’s bar or at house parties. Following their show at Edinburgh’s Sneaky Pete’s on Monday, their next —and final — stop was Glasgow’s McChuills, taking the stage at 20:45 on 3 December. 

While I had been charged to cover the Herons, the evening’s headliner was Reykjavik’s Spacestation. Described by the Herons as a ‘big personality’ band, they won The Reykjavik Grapevine’s 2025 Song of the Year with ‘Í draumalandinu’. This gig concluded their European tour, which took them to Berlin, Copenhagen, London, and everywhere in between, including Edinburgh and St Andrews with the Herons. 

We were lucky to hear “a lot of new songs that haven’t been released yet,” paving a new path in a legacy of rock and roll, self-proclaimed as “eager to evolve.” Their recent album, Reykjavik Syndrome (2025)— my favourite song being ‘Best Believe’ — resounds with melancholy grunge and filled our intimate venue with ease. 

Following Felix Saint Bris’s advice from our last interview (planning is “the spirit of punk,” he said), I made sure to catch the late bus, which luckily was also forty minutes late. I changed and got ready en route. At the end of the night, I ran for the last subway but missed it, giving me a fittingly rock-and-roll walk back to the West End. 

The tone of the night was set.  I walked through to the back room of McChuills, where the bands were setting up. The audience, from what I could tell through the strobe, seemed to be a sparse St Andrews microcosm. The Herons began.

I recognised their familiar favourites, ‘Love Affair’ and ‘Squishy Problems’, emanating their trademark silliness packaged in a punk get-up-and-dance beat. Their newest song, featuring a love of porridge in the morning, had singer/guitarist Saint Bris pouring cereal into drummer Ilya Husan’s mouth. Between this and their absurd lyrics, I felt like I was watching stand-up. 

After the performance, I caught Loulou Sloss and Sophie van Natta, labelling themselves “groupies with a more feminist autonomy”. We spoke about taking yourself too seriously, but also finding deeper meaning in funny lyrics. Sloss, drawing on a lyric in ‘Squishy Problems’ about scratching one’s parts, said with a laugh, “you can fill in what you really mean […] I scratch my heart every day, you know.”

The Herons, comprising two fourth years and a second-year student, had provided support for Spacestation’s Scottish gigs. Saint Bris described their sets as “High energy, irrespective of who’s there. We had mums and fucking dads, even a bloke who flew over from Brazil.”

Guitarist and vocalist Ben Bagley likened the band to The Flight of the Conchords, comparing their “irony, punk, and upbeat music,” as well as their ability to “dress serious topics behind an amusing façade.” I pointed out to Bagley that The Flight of the Conchords (in the HBO series, at any rate) are famously unsuccessful. He acknowledged this, saying, “We’ve got a gig at least!” I couldn’t fault him on that. With both Saint Bris and Bagley now in their fourth year, I wondered what was in store for the Herons. Husan was willing to carry the torch, but the group had not yet reached a consensus. It seemed to me a classic Only Fools and Horses brush-and-handle dilemma. 

Both the Herons and Spacestation wrapped up their tours at McChuills. While Spotify can attempt to fill Spacestation’s void, the Herons will have to leave you cold turkey. My advice is to stay tuned for their upcoming gigs — when they return to the stage with their rock-and-roll standup, you won’t want to miss it!

Photo by Mali Delargy