Love Quote by Ruggiero Ricci

Ricci goes for the jugular because he’s talking about a job that’s routinely romanticized. Classical music loves the myth of the “chosen” repertoire: the violinist born to play Bach, the one who “really feels” Sibelius. Ricci punctures that aura with a deliberately ugly comparison. “Like a prostitute” isn’t a moral claim; it’s a stress test for professionalism. If your emotional commitment depends on personal preference, you’re not interpreting - you’re indulging.

The intent is bluntly practical: the audience doesn’t pay to watch your taste. They pay for conviction, clarity, and the illusion of inevitability, even when the material is second-tier, overplayed, or simply not your thing. In Ricci’s world, the interpreter is closer to an actor than a diarist. You don’t get to break character because you’re bored of the script. Loving “the piece you are playing” becomes a technique, not a feeling - something you manufacture through attention to line, tone, and phrasing until the performance persuades.

The subtext is also a warning against the cult of authenticity. Ricci suggests that sincerity is less important than responsibility: to the composer, to the instrument, to the room. That can sound cynical, but it’s a hard-earned ethics. His provocation admits what musicians know privately: artistry often looks like desire from the outside and feels like labor on the inside. The “good interpreter” isn’t the one with the purest preferences; it’s the one who can turn discipline into belief on command.