Works

Tapestry for horn, violin, and piano was originally written for Steven Gross in 1998, and extensively revised in 2015. This is the first performance of the revised version.

The work opens and closes in triumph; in between it explores the ironies and hesitations that impinge on triumph, temper it, and, perhaps, make it real. The opening fanfares are quickly and abruptly interrupted by a brusque chord, silences and interjections. Soft questions from the horn initiate a continuous movement, in the form of a mysterious dialogue intensifying to a climax, in turn cut off by thunderous piano trills. These fade into a quiet slow movement, whose lyricism leads to a big climax and fades away.

Soft fragments of the opening lead to a recollection of the initial triumph, and quickly on to a light-hearted scherzo. Another brief recollection of the opening leads into a recapitulation of the initial continuous movement, now driving rather than mysterious, and a last restatement that initiates a lively coda and leads to a brilliant close.

Echoes from the Holocaust for oboe, viola, and piano (1993) opens with a tragic melody in the oboe, derived from two songs written by Holocaust victims.” The first song is Makh Tsu Di Eygelekh (Close Your Little Eyes) by David Beyglman who died in the gas chambers of Treblinka and the second Babi Yar by Riva Boyarsky, a Soviet Jew. (Both appear in We Are Here: Songs of the Holocaust, compiled by Eleanor Mlotek and Malke Gottlieb, with a foreword by Elie Wiesel, and published by The Workmen’s Circle.)

The opening song is followed by fourteen variations and a freer coda. Some short free extensions between variations help to articulate the outlines of a fast-slow-fast structure, which in turn is flanked by a slow introduction and coda. At the still center of the piece, the song becomes a slow, solemn chorale for the piano alone, followed by an ornamental variation in E minor. Finally, after a climax, fragments of the song die slowly into silence.

Echoes from The Holocaust was written for oboist Sarah Lambert Bloom.

Like so many people throughout the country and the world, I was heartbroken to hear the terrible news of the massacre of 20 children and their teachers at the Sandy Hook Elementary School last December. I offered Buddhist prayers and lit a candle for a few weeks; like many people, I felt that nothing I could do was adequate; and I still feel that way. At that time, I was beginning a piece for cello and piano at the request of my friend Jacob Braun. It quickly became clear that I was writing this piece as an offering for the families affected by the tragedy. I tried to convey the shock, grief, rage, sorrow—and hopefully, the beginning of some peace and consolation. It was striking to me how the piece came so naturally and inevitably. Now, I am joining with others in the musical community to form a consortium to raise funds for Sandy Hook Promise, a community group formed in the wake of the tragedy, seeking to support the community and help bring relief from this type of violence, for now and into the future.

The work begins with sudden, ferocious pizzicato, sliding into a long silence. Slow, mysterious sounds become fragments of a song of lament. However, the song grows faster and more anguished, leading to a fast, agitated section, the cello and piano exchanging slashing lines of continuous, rising, accented trills. After an abrupt cut off followed by a sustained high note for the cello alone, earlier melodic fragments gradually coalesce into a simple folk-like lullaby sung alone, high on the cello. Three quiet variations continue a peaceful feeling of consolation and sweetness. The work ends with isolated fragments of previous material, some agitated, others peaceful; finally the cello rises in a quiet phrase against a deep piano chord. There is a silence, broken by two quiet pizzicati, and then silence again.

Variations on Mel’s Song are dedicated to the memory of my late Zen teacher, Sojun Mel Weitsman Roshi, one of the most eminent Zen masters of the last fifty years, usually addressed as “Mel” by his many friends and students. Mel was an avid recorder player, and for many years we enjoyed playing chamber music together. Sometimes we played with a second player, Rick, and Variations on Mel’s Song began as a duet for Mel and our friend. Recently, I have revised it into a piece for two flutes. The theme, “Mel’s song”, is a gentle, lilting melody. The variations gradually become livelier, only to be interrupted by a very slow variation. The quick variations then resume and accelerate into a sudden climax– then silence. The second flute takes up the alto flute for a final quiet variation. The long silences that had featured in the middle slow variation are resumed, and the piece comes to a quite end.

Transience for oboe and percussion, written in 1994, was commissioned by A Due, the oboe/percussion ensemble of Robert Falvo and Alicia Chapman.

Most of it is angry, loud, disjunct, and dissonant, evoking the anger that resulting from our awareness of the fact that sooner or later we will face the loss of everything around us. But the simple acceptance that this fact can help find us find peacefulness within this world of change, as everything comes into being and fades in the ebb and flow of existence. The Buddha glimpsed this peace when he saw a start at dawn. Despite everything, it is possible for us, too.

This piece evokes both possibilities by using the antipodes of atonality and tonality. Most of the piece features an angular dialogue between oboe and nonpitched percussion (cymbals, tom-toms, temple blocks, snare drums). Glimpses of tranquility appear in “Adagio” sections for oboe and pitched percussion (vibraphone, marimba). These are harbingers of the final extended segment, which uses oboe and pitched percussion to create an otherworldly sense of repose.

Four Fantasy Pieces for flute and piano (1987) arose, like all my work, arises out of my delight in improvisation: drafting a piece is improvising on paper. Four Fantasy Pieces also shows Feigin’s desire to convey emotional states through music. The opening Cavatina is a sad, songful piece, culminating in an angry climax which recedes back to a quiet ending. The second and fourth movements fast and lively. The third piece combines the moods of the other, featuring fast, mercurial segments, leading to a delicate conclusion Four Fantasy Pieces was written for flutist Jill Dreeben.

Montecito Variation for solo violin was commissioned by Montecito Festival of Westmont College in Santa Barbara, California. It was written in honor of the great violinist Ivry Gitlis, who was the featured guest at the festival. Gitlis’s favorite piece was the slow movement of the Bach E major Concerto for violin, and several composers were each asked to write a variation in his honor. My contribution begins and ends with slow evocations of the music, its main part consisting of a variation on Bach’s entire movement, the lyrical slow movement turned into a lively Gigue.