Spur of the moment decisions marked a path of fate for Frank Belcourt’s artistic journey as Tiberius b. Now based in London, the Canadian artist has spawned across Wales, Vancouver, and Cortes Island in British Columbia–sharing their assorted discography with elements of 90s trip-hop, grunge, and experimental pop. After two EPs, 2025 saw the release of Tiberius’ debut album NEVERYTHING.
NEVERYTHING saw Belcourt tapping into a broader emotional atmosphere in its routine-based production process. Reflecting on their newfound approach to the album-making process now allows them to place it as some of their best work, no matter how many people it reaches. While Tiberius b was easing themself into a series of live dates where NEVERYTHING will be performed for the first time, they dive deeper into their upbringing on a small BC island and their steady initiation into becoming a cult-following artist.
I read you grew up on a small island in BC, where you’ve mentioned dancing at a community hall and attending music festivals as part of what sparked love for music and dance. In what ways does your musical upbringing in Cortes Island contrast the life you’ve built for yourself in London? In what ways is it similar?
I actually was just talking to someone about this the other day. I find that Britain and Canada have a lot more in common than America and Canada. Obviously Canada is a British colony, but a lot of the subcultures in Britain are exactly the same as they were when I was growing up. And when I moved here, I was really shocked at how I would go to raves and they would be in the forest, there would be a certain type of aesthetic–it was just the same. I thought it was going to be different. There’s a serious dubstep through line and ska through line. That kind of crusty, hippie counterculture is really similar in both places. Moving here ended up being more reminiscent of my childhood here than I expected, just because where I came from was so remote. Everything was DIY automatically, but that DIY and squat mentality is very baked into the culture here.
Would you say there were larger sorts of differences you encountered before you kind of saw that similarity?
I grew up on Cortes, then I moved to Vancouver because that was the closest big city to where I was from. I was 17. I always wanted to be a musician, and I started doing shows. I was doing shows before that on the island but then I started taking it more seriously. When I moved to Vancouver, I found the margins for what people were into were a lot smaller, because the population is smaller simply, and because London is fucking massive–anything goes, and everybody’s up for it. I was really struck when I moved here, because when I was living in Vancouver, it was when lo-fi house music really exploded. That was Vancouver’s main export when I was living there. I was writing songs and singing and shit, but it just felt like people didn’t have as much time for that.
I was born in London, so I have a passport, but I wasn’t really planning to move here. I just came to my cousin’s wedding and didn’t get my flight back. I felt like I had more of a place as a songwriter here. So many people I look up to are based here.
Yeah I also read that your parents put you onto artists like Radiohead, Massive Attack, Portishead, and Blur. So what feelings did that sort of music that you listened to growing up bring to the surface? Does that translate into any of the music that you’re making now?
The feeling that those artists were translating to me was deep loneliness and isolation. Just dark, painful feelings. I think I was quite lonely and isolated where I was so it really hit. I’ve always made songs to deal with my issues on my journey with songwriting, as most people do, but I feel like I’m getting more comfortable with dealing with my problems in other ways recently.
It’s kind of interesting seeing how that shows up in the music sometimes. My suffering to bop ratio is changing. What I’m noticing is I’m able to communicate the suffering message, but with a more bright, melodic palette. I think it’s because I don’t want to be self pitying in the music–I want the music to triumph. I’m still talking about the same stuff, it’s just coming out in a different way.
You’ve referred to NEVERYTHING as a window into a shred of optimism, how did working on the album bring that feeling into your life?
With this particular album, I approached making it in a more pragmatic way. Making songs used to be something I would only ever do in the moment when I was in horrible pain. I’d be like “I need to make a song right now.” And it would only be as and when I was feeling that way.
This album and the one that I made after was made in such a routine way. It was the first time I’d had a studio. I went to my studio every Thursday and I just made a song when I was there. These songs are a product of a much more ritualistic approach. I think that that’s why you get a broad emotional and melodic landscape, because I wasn’t going in with one specific feeling in mind. I was going in whether I felt chill, bewildered, this, that, or the other–it has this broader spectrum because of the more structured approach.
100%. How would you compare your feelings during the album’s production process/release versus now?
As a musician and in life in general, I am simultaneously so lazy yet so disciplined. It’s always been a real paradox for me. I don’t ever sit down at my house and just play guitar randomly.
I play guitar when I need to write a song. I don’t sit down and practice, but if I’m doing it, then I’m doing it and that is practice. I felt like with this album, I noticed an uptick in my skill set as a producer because I was going [to the studio] so much more consistently. It was really nice to notice that way after the fact. I’ve always produced my own stuff, but I also always work with producers and they’ve helped me finish things.
I feel like my first two EPs needed a lot more of a guiding hand. With this one, when I showed the producer Dan Carey this album,he was like “These demos are fucking sick already. We cannot lose what this already has going for it.” The goal of finishing it was to maintain the sauce of the demo.
I don’t really know what people think of it or how many people have heard it. Even though it’s my debut album, I think it’s had less ears on it than my first few releases. I feel like I have hurt feelings on that, because I think this is definitely my best work, best songwriting, and best production. But I also haven’t toured it and had much interaction with it, outside of one of my best experiences with it at my birthday party. One of my good friends, we were doing karaoke in my flat very late into the night, and my friend did karaoke to my song ‘Immaculate.’ I think the reason why that moment stuck out to me is because I don’t think that my friends listen to my music, but some of them definitely do. I just don’t actually perceive anybody listening to my music unless someone messages me. I just find it astonishing.
Those sort of hurt feelings you expressed to me, with not as many people are hearing the album–would you say there was anything you did differently between the EP releases and the album that got it more attention?
I don’t really know. I feel like there was more hype around the cosign of Mark Ronson on the first one. The second one, we did a really fucking sick visual campaign that just stuck with people. I think that art and everything was really slated this time around–we don’t play with that. I’m not really sure to be honest, that’s part of my reflective process.
I’m sure you’ll gain some ears as you start touring, it might be one of those later down the line discoveries for people! When you’ve toured your old music, how has it impacted the way you feel about those projects after the fact? Subsequently, if you could predict, how are you hoping touring will impact your feelings with NEVERYTHING?
I think that when I do touring, it’s always a surprise. If I’m touring old music, and then I drop into a totally different timeline for a moment. It’s shocking; a weird time traveling procedure, but it becomes this totally renewed thing via other people. If I ever play, and there’s people there that know the tracks and feel a type of way about them, I can see and feel that energy coming towards me. It totally renews the music for me as well.
I need other people’s enthusiasm to help me breathe new life into it. My bandmates do that, they make me feel like I’m meeting the songs as new songs again. It’s a really fun perspective shift.
I haven’t really played this music out that much. I’m excited to see people’s reactions to it for the first time and to explore what it evokes. The people who do know about Tiberius b are very devoted and have quite a lot of big feelings there, and that is a real honor.
You’re sort of becoming one of those “if you know you know”, cult-following artists.
I’ve had some very profound experiences of that specific thing. There’s this kid who’s dad is friends with my flatmate and found my music. His son was really young when he started showing him my music and the videos specifically. He watches my music videos every night before he goes to sleep. He’s probably seen my music videos more than any other person on the planet.
There’s this guitar that’s in my music videos for ‘Big Deal.’ I played it in the video and it was given to me by someone in this village in Wales when I was living there. My studio was really cluttered and I messaged the dad asking if I could give the guitar to his son. I went to visit them and met this kid, it was the craziest, magical experience. He’s practically non-verbal but he managed to say a few things to me. It was really fucking special and it makes me wanna cry when I think about it. I came away from that experience being like “That’s good enough for me.”
What are you most excited for in the remainder of 2026?
I recently started learning ballet–I’ve always wanted to do it and I randomly went to a beginners class. The guy that was teaching just really clocked my tea and knew that I was a boy trying to learn ballet for the first time and he was really warm to me in his way. The second time I went to the class he asked me if I could be in their Swan Lake production. I was like “Oh my god I don’t know how to do this but if you think I can, I will try.” We’re doing a performance in May and I’m Prince Siegfried. I’m trying to learn and it’s really quite amazing to be fucking bad at something. I’ve been getting fucking humbled in this class, shout out European College of Dance.
Izzy Petraglia is a publicist, writer and photographer based in Toronto. Within her work, she loves to tie in her passion for music, fashion, and pop culture. Follow her on Instagram.