Ex-Fiancée is a solo project that wasn't quite solo—for a time. Brooklyn-based composer/multi-instrumentalist/fag-of-all-trades Sven Britt makes (made?) music under direction of long-time collaborator (and husband, though, now—the project's name proved to be premonition—ex-husband), director and choreographer Chris Masters.

Orchestrated with reverence for each of the myriad topics investigated, Masters generatively nurtures Britt’s voice—physically & metaphorically—to unearth previously dormant dimensions of their creative capacities. Now awoken, these talents create the conditions that enable the discovery of revelatory perspectives, which nourish and cultivate lush, novel landscapes which form the foundation on which such interrogative work—faithfully devoted to intentionality, craft, and accessibility—can truly flourish.

Employing the same tactics used to make his acclaimed contemporary dance work—carefully constructed series of task-based processes, carving paths which guarantee each step is invariably imbued with intentionality—Masters sharpens and focuses Britt’s prowess and attention toward crafting compositions as interrogations that clearly examine each subject with intention and purpose present in every element of creation, from precipice to product.

The debut album, A Feast That Never Comes, is an investigation of technology’s effects on our: understanding of self and others; (mis)communication; mental health; online outrage; addiction; public vs private presentation; digital immortality; inertia; surveillance capitalism; mental health crises; the right to be forgotten; AI’s proliferation’s its consequences; and cycles of abuse.

In order to arrive at work addressing such fraught subject matters, precipice is treated as king—culminating in research-based tactics, erasures of academic articles, one-take exercises after extensive immersion into wide-ranging, expansive topics and themes.

The gulf between intention and consequence is massive, but while some see it as a hindrance, we see it as an endlessly generative wellspring of processes that invite myriad and disparate responses—so, rather than crawling and clawing our way toward the impossible goal of clarity and control, we encourage that gulf to become an ocean.

This is not a declaration, but rather, an interrogation. You are encouraged to embrace your unique history and perspective to ask your own questions, and provide your own answers. The work remains fundamentally unfinished without you.

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So, the result? A process-focused album following four characters (Kate, Michael, Sarah, and Daniel) structured to invite the listener to draw their own conclusions about the characters’ identities and relationships, as well as how listeners’ own lived experiences may relate to the content of the album.

Much like a seven-layer dip, or nesting dolls, the work invites you to choose how deep you want to dive. The songs can stand alone, or when songs don’t name characters, you can decide who is singing to whom. The dance film (four music videos) present a rich tapestry of imagery and storytelling, utilizing Masters’s unique movement tactics to realize the characters. Meanwhile, the visual album realizes the solitude and isolation that is inextricably linked to the generative process.

While you may discover musical, lyrical, and visual motifs creating recursive loop throughout the project, these repetitions may be taken at most as clues to intent. But from there, you’re on your own. The only intent that prevails in A Feast That Never Comes is that of openness and investigation.

There are always more levels to unpack, but the album is never framed as a puzzle to be solved. All levels of engagement are equally valid. We provide many varied entry points, but no explicit directive or guidance.

You’re going to have find your own way. I wish you way more than luck.


But what are you trying to say? All I’m hearing are zeros and ones.


Sven Britt has played, produced, and toured professionally with Stranger Cat (Joyful Noise Recordings (Son Lux, Kishi Bashi, of Montreal)), a duo with Cat Martino (The Shins, Sufjan Stevens, Sharon van Etten), playing at Bonnaroo, as well as opening for Son Lux, Patrick Watson, Sebadoh, Natalie Prass, Night Beds, Indians, Emmy the Great, Yoni Wolf, Serengeti, Reptar, Surfer Blood, and Porches.
Most recently, Sven has focused on immersive theatre and dance, which has been presented at Brooklyn Academy of Music, La MaMa Moves!, Danspace Project, Triskelion Arts (NYC), Fengchao Theatre (Beijing), eXit SPACE | NOD Theatre (Seattle), University of Iowa, University of Wisconsin–Stevens Point, University of Hawaii at Manoa, University of Central Florida, and The Iron Factory (Philadelphia). He has accompanied dance classes at Peridance Capezio Center, Mark Morris Dance Center, Gibney Dance Center, and University of Iowa.
Sven is honored to be awarded as a grantee of Brooklyn Arts Council, The Puffin Foundation, The Charles & Joan Gross Family Foundation, the Selinger Memorial Fund for the Arts, and the Tarkovsky Grant—the latter for Ex-Fiancée’s dance film A Feast That Never Comes, which has received 700+ film festival selections, winning 100+ Best Music Video awards.

It's easy to imagine your story, but there's no way I'm gonna get it right.

Directed by Chris Masters. Written, composed, recorded, produced, and mixed by Ex-Fiancée in Brooklyn, NY and Detroit, MI. Mastered by Joe LaPorta at Sterling Sound.

proximity

i'm not the type of person to tell you it's not enough
did you lose the ability to choose what to focus on
everything and nothing is a threat, until it is
the door is locked and you're free to forget the degrees of him
it's a tired old narrative
but it's the only language they speak
it's hard to be surprised, when they preach the virtue of proximity
you're the only thing that i keep out of reach
he slept at night just fine, it was the daytime that did him in
he had forgotten how to be alone, like everything and nothing is
we became something to be conquered, too great a gravity to escape
i saw the edge once i'd passed it,
and some facts are static,
and for all our talking,
we won't be conquering it today
now fill this false narrative
with false residents
and stop taking pictures of us
all your work in pencil, since has come to dust
i need a more specific reason to trust

a feast that never comes

you’re screening again
from the eyes of the listener
our call and response
is addictive and tender
the feeling you’re there
i’ll hold it for years at a time
a public confession can’t stop
our interior lives
the shadow’s becoming polished and perfect
resisting the shift could maybe be worth it
naturally negative and quietly fading
busier places filled with busier shadings
there’s still stories of self
when your heart stops beating
and i’ll keep the narrative
of facts and feelings
a reflection of you
in zeros and ones
squirreled away for a feast
that never comes
the shadow’s becoming polished and perfect
resisting your shit could maybe be worth it
naturally negative and quietly fading
busier places filled with busier shadings
cause all the facts are there
where the white light remains
fenced in what you couldn’t share
with all your detailed stains
a reflection of you
in zeros and ones
squirreled away for a feast
i pray never comes
as for me
i’m losing control
of the reembodiment of my virtual soul
i am public and now far broader
your affection is my digital water

holding pattern

all right, sarah
you’re buried in relics
you pile them on, and my body shakes
for the weight that you place on your pelvis
okay, sarah
so you’re down in those trenches your father dug
but what are you trying to say
all i’m hearing are zeros and ones
i get that you’re angry
i saw your panic attacks and your panicked acts
when they left you
with your static maps and your manic facts and i’m grasping
but what are you holding
what are you sharing that’s making my image be
what you are molding
and what aren’t showing
what are you withholding
the noise of your manufactured history
deafens the taciturn child in me
i’m sorry they left you
with all of their relics
but you chose that sorry weight
and it’s getting a little too late
all right, sarah
come on, say what you think
i promise i’m trying to help, trying to dig you out
trying the whole kitchen sink
i want you to miss them
to acknowledge your loss
and then not take out your anger on us
not turn back to your poisonous sauce
please, sarah
crawl out of this hole
i can’t pull you out of your sharing place
i can’t put you back in control
okay, sarah
fine, then leave me alone
the zeros and ones that you’re shouting at me
from your phone
can’t alleviate my wondering
of what the hell happened to you
at home

value

worth lies in design
the future lies in design
i lie by design
what’s a life in response
to simply being a target
but you’re forced into
simply being a target
i used to dream of transcendence
i used to explore beyond the dazzling light
i used to dream of transcendence
i used to explore beyond the dazzling light
you’re a friend or i don’t know you at all i lie by design
i lie by design
failure can’t be avoided
just by the questions
but what do you have to do to have value
i used to explore
faster and more
faster and more

two waves

today is the first day in the last nine months
when i won’t be stuck waiting for permission
even at a distance, the implied infinity
returns us to this tension
action must be taken; the action of removing
now two separate waves, once again consuming
i don’t want somebody asking me if daniel had gone
when we may not have known each other as well as the cause
if i seemed to be running, it’s from the idea that i’m seeing
a clearer definition of whatever we’re needing
and if i was still, it’s from this love that is haunted
and our disparate needs, and what it means to be bonded
you were like lightning, something that cannot be captured
but that became the concern, so over time you’re a hazard
i chose to stay at first, for the chance to become
created by love and more than our sum
but it was easier to hide than speak of our desire
or the potential percolation under trial by fire
the chance to become is enough for some
my ability to go is why i’d rather be alone
————
the memory kind of fades because i don’t believe it happened to me
an entirely different eternity
it seemed like the perfect picture but things were put into motion
and each page fell into one of two waves on the ocean
to have and to hold, despite the explosion
but only one side of the story is erosion
it had been nine months or so ago
when it would’ve helped that we each knew the kate that the other one knows
we were helping each other
but she didn’t make it and i never know how to walk
left by a stranger’s reminder of her father
i didn’t want people to know
how i remain with the living when you’re in my heart
and it becomes very cold
but somehow we knew each other
maybe in different ways and at different times
the writing on the wall
told us that eventually we’d choose to hide
i just wanna keep it all
we are still alive
i never know how to walk
i’m learning degrees at a time
the pictures left behind
of the faces of the fallen
i’m still tryin to wake up
i’m establishing a ritual
of the right way to remember you
but i would rather see you back at home
with lavender, and thoughts of building Rome
how selfish of me, but i’m wondering
how many sunrises didn’t i see

your water

i should be stronger
but i gravitate towards your water
you were someone i could turn to
in our early days, before i knew
my blood ran because of you
but now that i know, it runs from you
i should be stronger
after eight months and some
i’m still underwater
i still hear your hum
did you consume because you’re lonely
or the other way around
was i someone you could turn to only
when you were in danger of being drowned
i should be stronger
after eight months and some
i’m still underwater
i still hear your hum
you were making it harder
for me to be bold
i was making it darker
being collected and being sold
the benefit of time
reminds me of your crimes
the benefit of love
reminds me you’re not enough
i should be stronger
but i gravitate towards your water
i should be stronger
but i gravitate towards your water

creatures of habit

half a pair is sleeping
michael can fool himself into thinking
that he wants to learn to listen
to sarah’s sickening first thirty minutes
she woke up terminally curious
while he stared, similarly furious
sarah’s ready to share it all
she’s ready and wanting to make him fall
he wakes up in the right place
sick sunlight creeping in
mike absentmindedly reaches
his defeat is dialed in
sarah may well listen
passive and active with incredible ease
forcing his hand to
alter the way she thinks
the static of inertia is just enough
to make the cryptic messages full of love
michael wants to check without a second thought
or even a first, he knows that he’s caught
advertising a liar
both creatures of habit, not ones of desire
sarah is wanting, she’s opening to him
she’s ready to share it all, to fill to the brim
michael reached purely as penance
the game is about to finish
sarah’d stopped wanting, stopped falling asleep
she shifted her leg and straightened her knee
michael woke tense, sure that he’d miss
her in the night, that sarah was right
she trusted he knew when he woke to go to bed
it wouldn’t be her, she wouldn’t be staring straight ahead

bite your tongue

(you need to learn to bite your tongue
and become accustomed to the taste of blood)
don’t talk too much
it doesn’t take all these words for me to see myself
you know that i can grow
as long as you leave me alone
i need to be safe
and we need to be on the same page
don’t bait me with those empty promises
of best-laid plans, unless you’re positive
and all these words, tryin to trace our problems back
we’re just fooling ourselves—it’s deeper than that
whatever it is you wanna see
is it in you, or is it in me
and isn’t this why we explore
cause we both know that all you want is more
when the words are gone
how will you tell me precisely why i’m wrong
don’t bait me with those empty promises
of best-laid plans, unless you’re positive
and all these words, tryin to trace our problems back
we’re just fooling ourselves
i wish i knew
but no one can really know you
even after all we’ve been through
stop for a moment
it won’t be forever
i want a record of when your heart stops beating
and if staying numb is just about survival,
then stay alive and tell me how you’re feeling
don’t bait me with those empty promises
of best-laid plans, unless you’re positive
and all these words, tryin to trace our problems back
we’re just fooling ourselves—it’s deeper than that
and are you haunted
by everything you wanted
and everyone is hiding, and everyone is hidden
but when you disappeared, the whispers didn’t

the trick

the first step is to define the world as we know it
where our joy is fine, but our anger’s more potent
tempers ran hot and we weren’t able to see
before you delivered your monologue and baited me
when you told me, “daniel, i’m tired and have no choice,”
what i heard, kate, was “anger is stronger than joy”
what year is it again, when we’re calling for an end
of our bodies being opened, and your detailed map
doesn’t tell me if the mold can be broken
the devil’s in the details, dear
and i needed to be visible, even if it means that we’re here
i don’t know if we’ll ever reach higher
the blood on our hands hotter than the fire
but i need to believe that we’ll try
but after the violence that erupted, in the deafening silence,
i couldn’t stop thinking we just don’t value life
(so please, please, please—say something)
the trick is to make me remember
when i thought you were the one i was waiting for
and the trick is to make us remember
though we can’t fathom what made us feel the ember
and make us reach higher
without knowing our blood’s what started the fire
and i’m starting to be afraid that there’s no escape
from this insistent and crushing lack of faith
and it wasn’t a threat, it was a promise
when i told you i’d ruin you by being honest
(so please, please, please—say something)

circle

it’s easy to imagine your story
but there’s no way i’m gonna get it right
you’ve been gone for far too long
so it’s time to pack it in for the night
there was a point at which i was afraid of falling down
then that tap on my wrist made me focus on the ground
and will the circle be unbroken
when i’m so tired, i’m so tired
is a better home awaiting
after the downpour and the fire
i promise i can weather
as we hope for better minds
can the mold be broken
is this only part of my life
the pages all fell when it was time to go
and i can’t read them fast enough, and i can’t be alone
and will the circle be unbroken
i used to be tired, i used to be tired
is a better home awaiting
after the downpour and the fire