Cor de Groot was born in 1914 in Amsterdam and
died in 1993, near Hilversum. He won First Prize in the 1936
Vienna International Piano competition and operated mainly as
a Philips artist. In 1959 he suffered paralysis of his right
hand but continued performing, in the left-hand repertory. In
1960 he became director of the Dutch Broadcasting Foundation.
The orchestral exposition to the first movement
of the First Concerto is expertly handled and magnificently
rendered here - the recording is clear and detailed. Jacob Harnoy,
who dedicates this set to the memory of his wife Carmela, has
done a sterling job. The piano sound is true and clear, and
we can hear a myriad tonal gradations from de Groot. There is
a real and continual sense of play between piano and orchestra
in the first movement. De Groot’s fingers are meticulously clean
of attack in this concerto - like the Second, this is a work
that mercilessly shows up any slight miscalculations. It is
the second of the three cadenzas that is heard here - the shortest
- and it is despatched with much aplomb. The Largo is given
a reading of the utmost depth, with some sterling contributions
from the orchestra although wind tuning is not as spot-on as
the Vienna Symphony’s Philharmonic brothers would doubtless
have provided. The finale finds de Groot’s fingers in exceptionally
nimble fettle. The cadenza here leaves me at a loss as to its
author - no clue is given in the documentation - so I can only
assume it is by de Groot himself. He ensures it is a substantial
enough statement to make its mark.
Similar traits mark out the Second Concerto.
De Groot’s fingerwork is a source of consistent delight. De
Groot here opts not to play Beethoven’s cadenza – although which
one he gives us is not credited. The slow movement is again
the highlight, with fluid lines and a real sense of communication
between soloist and orchestra; the finale is full of vim from
the soloist. The orchestral playing can be on the ragged side,
though.
The sound for the Third Concerto is rather recessed
and echoey. This is particularly noticeable during the orchestral
exposition. The solo sound is better although the bass end of
the piano is rather fuzzy. De Groot’s interpretation is of laser-like
focus; van Otterloo’s accompaniment is ever supportive but does
not match his soloist’s dynamism. De Groot finds many “hidden
lines” amongst the left-hand accompaniments, but these never
sound gratuitously generated. The pedal-less split octaves around
the nine-minute mark sound rather dry. Again, there is a question
mark over the cadenza – it is certainly not the rather inferior
one we routinely hear these days. De Groot’s cadenza clearly
has aspirations to inhabit worlds further along the timeline
than the rest of the concerto, and is all the more fascinating
for its exploratory nature. Interestingly, it tags nicely into
the expected trills via the end of Beethoven’s cadenza but without
closing on the mediant in the treble voice; the treble here
descends to the tonic. The slow movement approaches a great
performance. It possesses all the elasticity it requires without
going out of style; woodwind contributions are all audible …
even the bassoon solos. The finale is full of life - although
the distancing of the orchestra does rob that side of things
of a little bit of vim. Again, there are certain moments where
the dryness of the pianist’s pedalling may come as a surprise,
and the coda is surprisingly under tempo so it loses the spring
in its step.
The warm G-major of the Fourth Concerto finds
a superlative interpreter in the Vienna Symphony, whose silky
string sound is a joy. Van Otterloo accompanies superbly here,
his strings mirroring de Groot exactly in the more interior
moments. This is a most affectionate performance that nevertheless
never undersells moments of dynamism. The cadenza this time
brings familiar ground (the first and most famous one) – and
beautifully sculpted it is, too. I love de Groot’s way with
the slow movement – deeply reflective and unhurried. Van Otterloo
galvanises the orchestra into a near-frenzied contribution to
the finale; de Groot just fails to blaze as much. And yet there
is plenty to enjoy here. The brief cadenza (Beethoven) is given
with much élan. Backhaus remains my preferred interpreter here
- for Backhaus with visuals, try the version with Böhm and the
Vienna Symphony Orchestra on Euroarts.
The “Emperor” is the only concerto accompanied
by the Hague Philharmonic, van Otterloo’s own orchestra, where
he was chief conductor from 1949 to 1973. This is a resplendent
reading. It glows - both orchestra and piano - from the
off, with de Groot glittering and commanding in his responses
to the massive tutti chords. This is a big-boned, extrovert
“Emperor”. Unfortunately there is smudging in the recording,
leading to loss of orchestral detail, particularly in the mid-range
around the ten-minute mark - not enough to detract from a lively
performance, though. The Hague strings are gorgeously caught
for the opening of the Adagio un poco moto. This is no
second-league orchestra. The slow movement is beautiful without
plumbing any absolute depths – similarly, the magic of the transition
into the finale is half-there, half-missed. De Groot’s swiftness
of finger ensures that the swirling semiquavers reveal no sense
of strain. Like Pollini, de Groot has no problems slowing down
when he feels it appropriate … and in the same places, too.
The sound in the final bars is rather raw, a pity as this is
a distinguished “Emperor”.
The two bonus items, two sonatas, are included
on the second disc after the Second Concerto. The “Tempest”
is given a superbly articulated account. The returns of the
Largo in the first movement are always treated with mystery;
perhaps the Allegro ripostes could have a tad more urgency about
them though. Nothing amiss with the expressive Adagio, though,
a marvellous mix of the forlorn and the tender. The finale is
swift - perhaps too swift for allegretto, even taking into account
the 3/8 time signature - and has much drive. The E flat Sonata
of the Op. 31 group has a first movement possessed of near-Mozartian
lightness – a different, and interesting, interpretative slant.
The Scherzo is indeed of that determined, spiky humour so often
designated as Beethovenian - nice off-beat accents. The reflective
mood of the Menuetto - which admittedly is marked “Moderato”
- veers uncomfortably towards the stolid; the finale, in complete
contrast, is remarkable for its jollity and is, indeed, very
close to the “Presto” marking.
This release may be supplemented with the work
that APR has done on behalf of the pianist; APR5612 contains
a 1942 “Emperor”. Notes from Doremi are fairly minimal and confined
to general biographies of pianist and conductor. Despite this,
this remains a set of vital interest to pianophiles. Cor de
Groot is never less than fascinating, and is frequently illuminating.
Colin Clarke
Cor de Groot (piano)
