Art & Creativity Quote by Ruggiero Ricci

Ricci is doing what virtuosos do best: turning a technical problem into a moral one. On the surface, he is describing a familiar truth in performance culture: interpretation is a multiplier. The same notes can land as revelation or as kitsch depending on the player. But the barb is in how quickly he moves from craft to character. “Pretty decent,” “cheap,” “smear around” aren’t neutral terms; they’re class-coded judgments about discipline, restraint, and respect for the score.

The intent is partly defensive, partly evangelistic. Ricci came up in a 20th-century classical world where recordings and competitions made “polish” easy to counterfeit and harder to define. By insisting that a bad interpreter can make good music sound “cheap,” he’s warning against the kind of glossy, generalized expressiveness that flatters an audience without saying anything. Taste, in his view, isn’t just preference; it’s the ability to choose what not to do: when not to slide, inflate, sentimentalize, or add perfume where structure should speak.

His piano comparison is telling. On a keyboard, you can’t literally smear pitch the way a violinist can; the instrument enforces clarity. Ricci is accusing certain musicians (and listeners) of loving blur because blur feels like emotion. The subtext is elitist, sure, but also anxious: if interpretation becomes mere self-expression, then the canon turns into a costume rack, and genius becomes indistinguishable from bad manners.