JUILLIARD QUARTET’S HAYDN : A STRANGE NEW VERSION OF ‘THE 7 LAST WORDS’

NEW YORK —  Back in 1785--or maybe it was 1786--Franz Joseph Haydn received an interesting Lenten commission from a canon in Cadiz. The composer was asked to write a set of seven somber adagios.

Each could last no more than 10 minutes, and each was to serve as musical comment on a sermon inspired by one of the last words of Christ.

Thus evolved the strange, sprawling and often wonderful collection of sacred meditations labeled “Die sieben letzten Worte unseres Erloesers am Kreuze” (The Seven Last Words of our Saviour on the Cross).

Haydn originally intended the piece for orchestra alone. Eventually he revised it for string quartet. He also sanctioned a piano arrangement. Finally, following the musical example of one Joseph Freibart and a text by the Baron van Swieten, Haydn adapted the piece for chorus and orchestra.

Carnegie Hall celebrated Good Friday this year with a rare performance of what was billed simply as Haydn’s “Seven Last Words of Christ.” What’s that, you ask? Which version was chosen?

There’s the rub. None of the above.

The adventurous Juilliard Quartet concocted its own edition for the occasion. It turned out to be a very strange edition.

The authentic music intended for string quartet wasn’t just retained in toto. It was augmented with an unrelated prelude (the Affetuoso e Sostenuto movement from the E-flat Quartet, Opus 20, No. 1) and interrupted by an unrelated interlude (the wondrous Largo from the Quartet in D, Opus 76, No. 5).

That was just the beginning. The Juilliard masterminds also enlisted the aid of vocal soloists. Four singers were assigned appropriate choral passages extracted from Haydn’s oratorio version. Moreover, at the beginning of six sections, the basso chanted a Latin line, plainsong style, as a prelude to the German biblical setting.

One had to admire the cleverness, not to mention the imagination and dedication of all involved. One could bask in the mellow glow and savor the aristocratic phrasing in the perfectly poised ensemble work of Robert Mann and Joel Smirnoff (violins), Samuel Rhodes (viola) and Josel Krosnick (cello).

When the subway trains weren’t rumbling below and the voices weren’t blurring in echoes, one could enjoy the intimacy of the renovated Carnegie acoustic. With a little fine-tuning, the hall may yet recapture the glories of yesteryear.

Still, any self-respecting iconoclast would have to wonder if all the probing energy and quasi-scholarship was well spent in this case. The conflated Juilliard version of the “Seven Last Words” does little to ward off the threat of monotony. Even in great music, after all, there is such a thing as sobriety overkill.

More important, perhaps, the willful juxtaposition of sounds, textures and structures unimagined by the composer raises more aesthetic questions than it answers. Haydn may have been an exceptionally flexible and liberal composer. Nevertheless, style can only be bent so far. Trouble beckons when persuasive conviction begins to flirt with arbitrary chutzpah.

The impact of the New York performance was compromised further by a curious problem involving the vocal soloists. The management had assembled a distinguished quartet for this graceful relatively simple assignment. Benita Valente was the pure-voiced soprano, Jan DeGaetani the suave mezzo-soprano, Thomas Paul the solid basso. So far so good.

The tenor was supposed to have been an incipient superstar, Jerry Hadley. Therein must lie a tale.

Perhaps Hadley found the challenge too modest. Perhaps he was, as a terse program insert claimed, ill. Be that as it may, he was replaced by Warren Jones.

Warren Jones? Warren Jones!

The program listed him as musical adviser. We know him as an excellent piano accompanist in voice recitals. As such he shared the Ambassador Auditorium stage in Pasadena with Hakan Hagegard only three weeks ago. But here he was, the brave young man, not just singing but singing in decidedly lofty company.

And how did he sing? When he could be heard, he sang tastefully, correctly and sweetly.