Originally a solo project for Brendan Wright, Tiberius has evolved into a catchy and cacophonous four-piece, producing what Wright calls “Farm Emo.” This expanded lineup of Wright, bassist Kelven “KP” Polite, drummer Sam Blumenstiel, and pedal steel player Pat King blends Indie Punk, Alt Country and Psychedelia with confessional, yet conversational and relatable songwriting.

Interesting name! What does “Tiberius” mean to you? 

One of the sources of solace my senior year of High School was English Lit class – a perfect outlet for a particularly depressed and overly emotional 18 year old. My teacher saw my name on the attendance sheet as ‘Brendan T. Wright’ and asked me if the T stood for Tiberius (a nod to James T. Kirk for all the Trekkies out there). I snarkily answered, “it is if you want it to be,” and for the rest of that year I wrote Tiberius on every one of my papers. It felt kind of like an alter ego – a voice for the angst I was experiencing. Later that year, when I started putting my anxious garageband tunes on bandcamp, it felt natural to list it under the name ‘Tiberius’.

Tiberius started as a solo project and evolved into a full band. How did that transformation take place?

I never intended Tiberius to be a full band project – but after putting out a few bedroom pop records under the name a friend approached me and asked if I would consider playing some of the tunes with them around our college campus. I reluctantly said I would give it a try, but had little faith it would work. Sure enough, in the last semester of college Tiberius became a live band. It dissolved later that year as I moved from Upstate New York to Boston, however I knew I wanted to keep doing the band thing. The pandemic happened putting a bit of a hold on that, but really started to hit the ground running in the ‘live rock show format’ in the summer of 2021. 

How did the change from solo project to band affect the music of Tiberius?

I started writing more in mind towards performing these songs in a live show format. The songs became a lot more dynamic and collaborative. Our bassist KP, and our studio drummer Ben (and later Sam) became much more integral to the writing process. I feel like I really learned how to execute songs in a way I had always fallen short in doing. 

Your press materials describe the band as “cacophonous.” What accounts for the cacophony? 

I think most of the songs I write for Tiberius stem from an underlying anxiety I manage throughout my life. While musically I tend to write within the pop rock structure, I gravitate towards dissonance – incorporating feedback, extended chords, screaming and whining, and oftentimes lots of textures. The studio tracks are really dense – sometimes up to 200 tracks in a single session. I want it to feel like you’re stepping into the swirl of emotions within my gut when I’m feeling the things I’m feeling. 

You’ve described Tiberius as a blend of Indie Punk, Alt Country, and Psychedlia. How do these genres inform each other in your music?

My favorite writing tool is contrast. I love a lot of music – sometimes on wildly different ends of the spectrum. At the end of the day I’m most focused on creating songs with dynamics and using these elements to enhance the feelings behind the lyrics. I don’t think most genres are actually that different, rather they just use different decorations. It can be fun to play with that. I think it’s just also hard for me not to want to take a song in several different directions. 

Similarly, you describe your lyrics as confessional yet conversational. How do you bridge these two characteristics? 

I think that the best songs are the ones that just feel honest. There’s something really impactful and illuminating about hearing something ordinary or conversational that you could hear in the everyday, in a format that makes you slow down and think about it a little more. It really reminds me of the beauty in the mundane. 

You wrote your new album, Troubador, during what you’ve described as a short period of time where many relationships in your life changed significantly. Can you say more about that and how those changes influenced the songs you were writing?

For a while after the pandemic, I had found my stride in Boston – I had my circle of friends, I had my routines, I was in a relationship, and I felt like I had a certain understanding of who I was. And then that relationship ended, people moved away, routines changed, and I kind of went into panic mode. It’s not significant to me at all – pretty sure everyone in their 20’s goes through that multiple times. I felt a lot more sensitive, and insecure about who I was at that time. My self esteem got really low, and I felt like I was a complete victim to my emotions. Looking back, I give myself the grace that I was doing the best I could, but I still feel a lot of shame around who I was that year. The songs I wrote were tools to cope with all of those feelings. Being years removed from them I’ve developed a complicated relationship with them.

You’ve also said that you experienced a “complete ego death” at the time. What does that mean to you?

I talk with my therapist a lot about how I define myself in relation to the other. I compare a lot. I understand myself as how I serve other people. When those relationships changed, I didn’t have a metric to measure myself anymore. Thankfully, it forced me to find metrics that were more realistic, and within my control. As a result, I think I’ve become much more assured in myself, and overall feel happier on the day to day.

Your song “Sag” expresses your frustration and insecurities with trying to find a place in music. Are you still looking for that place? 

It comes up from time to time, but I feel more assured these days. I’m happy to be living in Boston, and happy to be a part of the community that’s here, and I’m excited for what’s to come.

What’s on the horizon for you? 

Very excited to be releasing our record in November, and play some shows around it! Hopefully we can make some new pals, and have some new experiences. I’m definitely itching to work on some new material. 

Photo credit: D. Daniels