The news of activist Rodger McFarlane's death, by suicide, has left me both stunned and deeply saddened. Rodger was an extraordinary, multi-faceted person whose breadth of accomplishment was staggering.  We officially met under the most democratic of circumstances, having been selected as members of a jury on a personal injury trial in Manhattan's Supreme Court, in the courtroom of Justice Donna Mills.  I recognized Rodger from having seen him at a concert by pianist Sara Davis Buechner; he remembered me from having attended one of my concerts and was full of kind praise. 

Rodger was over six and a half feet tall with a positively charismatic presence, usually with a glowing smile on his face that balanced out a bald head and protruding ears. As we could not talk about the case itself - which lasted about five weeks - we spent numerous hours in the jury room learning about the other jurors and their experiences (when we weren't reading newspapers, doing crossword puzzles and the like).  Rodger would mention, in the most conversational way and with a southern lilt, an aspect of his activities and I would then learn another small portion of his astounding achievments. At that time - which was the spring of 2001 - he was caring for his friend, the playwright Larry Kramer (and founder of The Gay Man's Health Crisis), who was in dire need of a liver transplant. Rodger acknowledged the difficulties of the situation and mentioned that he had some major backup plans - if a liver became available halfway across the country, he was going to make sure Larry and it met up - and I became aware that this was someone who was not only incredibly resourceful but extremely loyal.  Through reading Rodger's obituary I learned that he was the first executive director of GMHC and could easily understand how this had come to be. Larry Kramer also got his transplant which, happily, was successful. 

Rodger was an articulate leader in the gay rights movement and championed the rights of others who were disenfranchised, including the transgendered community. He was a founder of ACT UP and, with Larry Kramer, was an activist in promoting research and effective treatments for HIV/AIDS. He also nursed many of his gay friends during the early days of the AIDS epidemic, back when it was a mysterious virus that amounted to a death sentence for those infected. This resulted not only in his becoming licensed as a respiratory therapist but also the respected author of books and articles on caring for seriously ill persons. 

He had an enormous empathy that was tempered by a mischievous humor. The trial for which we were jurors was a personal injury case complicated by many defendants and a language barrier that required translators for some of the testimony.  We disliked one of the lawyers in particular and mocked him whenever we were back in the jury room, but admired the judge, who not only ran a no-nonsense, organized courtroom but was extremely stylish down to her dreadlocks.  On occasion she would summarily dismiss us from the courtroom to speak with the lawyers, which led Rodger to slyly refer to her as "the spankin' judge," leading all of us to imagine that not only was she chastising the misbehaving lawyers but also taking them over her knee and paddling them. 

I also learned about Rodger's participation in rather extreme athletics, from triathlons to excursions in some pretty dicey places (such as across the North Pole ice cap), and he usually came to the courthouse dressed somewhat athletically and with a small backpack.  As the trial progressed I felt comforted by seeing him, partly because at that time my neighbor across the hall, who was in his thirties and also very tall, had had a breakdown apparently brought on - as I later learned - by cocaine and other drug binges and his own AIDS diagnosis. He became completely paranoid and hostile, which he directed towards me and my husband: such were his antics that I started carrying pepper spray just to leave my apartment, with 911 dialed into my cellphone, just in case he really carried out the attacks he was threatening. Based on my neighbor's actions, which included hurling himself against our door, screaming in his apartment at all hours and throwing trash at our window, I tried to obtain a restraining order against him. With no threatening telephone messages or direct physical attacks, however, I was unsuccessful. (I recall leaving the police station after learning that they would issue a restraining order only after he pushed me down the stairs or assaulted me in a similar fashion.) Needless to say, it was a very stressful time and being around Rodger was reassuring and a respite from the hellish situation at home, which was resolved after the neighbor moved out at the end of August.  (That summer I went back to the same courthouse on behalf of my landlady, who was evicting him for nonpayment of rent.)  As I recall, Rodger offered to help me in this situation but I declined, figuring he had better things to do.

Rodger moved to Denver a few years ago (for more details about his career, including his military service on a spy submarine, please read this article http://www.foundationnews.org/CME/article.cfm?ID=3053) and his athletic pursuits evidently caused him to break his back in 2002, which led to chronic pain.  According to the articles I have read recently, he also was experiencing some heart problems.  Evidently he did not wish to become further incapacitated nor did he wish to burden others with his care - this man who had devoted his life to caring about and for others - and after writing farewells to friends and paying off his bills, he went to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico and, on May 15th, fatally shot himself on a hiking trail. 

In teaching at NYU I often pass by the LGBT office (which offers support and services for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered students), the existence of which no doubt owes a large debt to Rodger and others like him. I shall always remember this man with great admiration, fondness and respect - along with, I suspect, thousands of others - and it breaks my heart that he would not permit others the honor of caring for him, in his declining health, in return. His legacy remains in our hearts and in the many individuals he has helped. 

Composed in 1806, the serenity and majesty of Beethoven's famed Violin Concerto belie the turmoil of its time: Vienna was under French occupation and Beethoven was coming to terms with his increasingly profound deafness.

Despite its popularity today, the Violin Concerto did not receive a warm reception at its premiere on December 23, 1806. The soloist, Franz Clement, received the soloist's part a matter of days before the performance and Beethoven's nearly illegible writing in the orchestra's parts undoubtedly contributed to an underwhelming performance; indeed, between the first two movements the audience's apparently poor response led Clement to turn his violin upside down and improvise a folksy tune in order to reclaim their attention and good graces!

Beethoven felt discouraged by the Concerto's reception and made a version for piano with orchestra. Although a full score manuscript exists (and I own a beautiful facsimile edition published in 1979), it leads to more questions than answers, as Beethoven has notated many different versions of passages - partly in preparing the piano version - without indicating his final selection. Even the fact that he "proofread and authorized" the first edition (published in 1808) does not convince that what we now know as his Violin Concerto is exactly as he would wish it to sound, due to his impatience in attending to the details of an error-free score.

In any event, the work was in danger of fading into oblivion before being "revived" in 1844 - seventeen years after Beethoven's death - by Felix Mendelssohn, with the 13-year-old violinst Joseph Joachim as soloist. Time, of course, has established the Concerto as among the great works of the Classical repertoire. Even after years of performances - and having made a recording of it (on original instruments) - I approach it with contemplation and the appreciation of an enduring relationship that only deepens over time. This work demands the ultimate clarity and beauty of musical line, sound, intonation and articulation, which cannot be achieved with virtuosic bluster or exaggeration, and I always examine it carefully for new insights.

Lately I have been especially aware of Beethoven's masterful use of the perfect cadence, from the solo violin's first entry through many moments throughout each movement, much like the music of Bach. Although the perfect cadence marks the "resolution" of a musical idea, each of these masters continues the narrative in another guise, leading the listener (and performer) ever forward through a variety of affects or emotions and ultimately to the conclusion of the movement. Beethoven's use of what I call a "motor" - in the first movement the motif of four even pulses - also determines how feely the soloist plays. When the motor is reduced to one slow pulse per measure in the section in g minor, for example, the effect is that of time standing nearly still and melancholy. Like other great composers, Beethoven also uses chromaticism to create further uncertainty in the listener - where are we going with this? - and he does so to lead this section into a triumphant return of the opening music. Yet, even following an enormously powerful tutti, in which horns are blazing and strings are energetically propelling the music along, he reminds the soloist to play "dolce" - sweetly!

Another source of inspiration is the poetic nature of the Larghetto, which is in the form of a Romance - much like Beethoven's Romances in F and G for violin and orchestra. (Essentially, a Romance features a musical statement, characterized by simplicity, that is returned to throughout the work with a slight alteration of affect each time and with variations in between.) The Larghetto differs from the other Romances in that the violin is frequently accompanying the orchestra and providing commentary in an improvisatory manner specified by Beethoven's notes.

Beethoven suddenly and dramatically breaks the serene mood of the Larghetto and leads into a Rondo; taking everyone with him in a quick transition from the sublime to the extremely folksy. Although the Rondo features "simpler" music - with an emphasis on the "hunting call" intervals of a fifth - it is important to phrase it carefully and keep its 6/8 meter from sounding singsong. I also request that the strings use a lot of open strings when they play their tuttis, in keeping with the idea of country fiddles playing a delightful dance. Late in the movement Beethoven pulls the ultimate surpise when he moves the tune from D Major to A-flat Major - again, what is this? - before heading into a powerful coda and a series of harmonic points that undoubtedly inspired Rossini (and the composer of "Heart and Soul"!)

Beethoven did not provide his violin soloist with cadenzas - the spot at which the orchestra ceases to play and the soloist is supposed to play improvisations based on the movement's music - so I have composed my own. While pondering how to even get started, I asked my dear late pianist friend Bill Black for advice. His response: modulate quickly and as far away from the home key as possible, which has led me to play the second theme in double stops in f minor, which is about as far away from D Major as you can get. I also insert a little cadenza into the third movement where other violinists traditionally do not (partly to keep the conductor on his or her toes), but it is also a place where Beethoven indicated an eingang (literally, lead-in or entry) as he prepared the version of the Concerto for piano soloist. Otherwise, I enjoy putting in bits of the orchestra's music that don't appear in the soloist's part, often "upside down."