Given the increasing hatred and polarization, could he not play a role in bringing people together? “I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I'm completely apolitical, but I do follow it. If I were in charge, I would start every meeting of the House of Representatives with music.” He has already proposed something like this once. "I was at a meeting with a room full of mayors. I said that there too." Rieu claps his hands and strikes up a cheerful march. Enthusiastically: "And presto! Everyone joined in." You say: "I am apolitical." Are politics and music incompatible? "No, I don't think so. Music is for everyone. Music should connect people. And in politics, you're this or that or the other. What I do think is that you need a good leader. Take my orchestra. I mean, it's a real mess. And I mean that in a good way; they're all different people. But they have to go in one direction. Someone has to say which direction that is. They have to trust me, they have to think: he has a sound in his head and he's looking for it." He thinks for a moment. “Could you have a prime minister who isn't affiliated with any party? I'd like to try it.” He chuckles, then corrects himself. “Oh wait, Marjorie wouldn't allow it.” He continues: "I recently read a book about the beginnings of democracy. About Pericles. Such a pill. In it, you can clearly see how democracy works. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and freedom, but there has to be a leader. And that was him. Every Saturday afternoon, they gathered in the main square in Athens. He was re-elected every five years, eight times. It was a golden age, everything was going great, until he died. Then they went to war with Sparta and everything fell apart. Everyone wanted to have their way. You know what I mean? How many parties do we have in the House of Representatives right now?" Fifteen, I believe? “Much more than that, right? Far too many, in any case! The other extreme is America, with two—yes, that doesn't work either, they need to change that immediately. So wrong, you have more than two opinions... Those are my thoughts on democracy.” There are countries where you don't want to play because of human rights violations, so you're not entirely apolitical. “We had a tour lined up in Russia and then Putin started shooting. We canceled it. Turkey, we went twice, until Erdogan started acting up. Yeah, guys, come on. And Saudi Arabia, those kinds of countries, we don't go there either. First, take out of your constitution that you have to shoot homosexuals.” Would you perform in the United States now, with Trump in power? "Funny you should ask, we were supposed to perform there this month. We canceled that last year." "I'm tired of the jet lag. We played five times in Australia, three times in New Zealand, twelve hours time difference. I've had enough. So we canceled the tour in America. And now, I have to be honest with you. If you ask me would I go there now? I'm glad we didn't go." "It's a shame for my audience there, because those people loved it. But it's also not fun when you feel like there's one half of the audience... and the other half." Perhaps you could have performed miracles. Seriously: "Of course. Never say never." With a father who was a prominent conductor with the Limburg Symphony Orchestra, it was obvious that Rieu Jr. would also end up in the world of classical music. The six children learned to play an instrument from an early age. With a firm hand. But his father couldn't accept that he later chose Strauss of all people. His father loved French modern music, such as Francis Poulenc. Heavy, serious pieces. Music for the elite. "I had to fight my own father and mother," Rieu recalls. “They didn't believe in me. ‘You'll never amount to anything!’ My sister, that was everything, she played the harp, they adored her. Things went wrong early on. I was a cheerful child. And I like to look people in the eye. My mother didn't allow that, she thought it was rude.” Why did she find that rude? “I don't know. She had a lot of trouble with feelings. A lot.” You have a lot of feelings. “Yes, that's why. She couldn't handle that. And feeling more than others, that's how she was too. Anyway, I had four years of therapy to process that unpleasant childhood.” “The fact that I now want to move people, to touch people, has to do with that, with my mother's rejection of it.” He is silent for a moment. "There are people who say, you're still trying to prove yourself to your father and mother. I don't believe that, really. That violin, did I really want it when I was four? To prove something? I just fell into it. Mainly thanks to Marjorie, she believed in me. I've known her almost my whole life, she was in my sister's class. At one point she said: you play beautifully, I think you could earn money with it. That's how it happened, you see. She was positive." What was your father like at home? "Very strict. And then there was that damn religion too. Later on, he became completely religiously fanatical. I was fifteen or sixteen at the time. We couldn't talk to each other at all anymore." How did his religious fanaticism manifest itself? "He spent all day in church. He wore a chasuble and acted like he was a priest. He was always crazy about the church and church music. He came from Haarlem. Catholics from Haarlem... that’s such an enclave. They’re extra Catholic. They have to resist their Protestant neighbors." He muses: "It's strange, that whole upbringing, but the Catholic Church certainly shaped me. I was in the choir my whole childhood. After mass, we'd go to the café. That's so Limburg. Twelve priests here, twelve priests there, sunlight through the stained-glass windows, incense..." Did you personally experience the negative aspects of the Catholic Church? "No, never. I was an altar boy, and I never noticed anything like that. But then again, I never came into contact with the fanatics. They are the dangerous ones, of course. Bishop Gijsen—I always said about him: get lost, man." Did you remain a believer? "No, when we were in therapy, I read a book by Bertrand Russell, 'Why I Am Not a Christian'. You only have to read the foreword. It analyzes belief in God so clearly and so mathematically! That was enough to say: okay, let's leave the church right away." And how did that feel? “Oh, very good, very good indeed. I don't want to be part of that.” Has anything replaced it? “Music. Nice music, beautiful music.” Great music, that's what it's all about. Like this morning (September 22, 2025). There was a rehearsal scheduled with the Maastricht Salon Orchestra, the ensemble he founded in 1979 and breathed new life into. Rieu arranged a song by Rowwen Hèze. The band has been around for forty years, and Rieu is providing a surprise act for the anniversary party: a clog dance that transitions into the classic hit "Limburg" (It's a matter of patience/waiting quietly for the day/when all of Holland speaks Limburgish). “It was so much fun to put that together and arrange it. The process leading up to it is wonderful. It's a different audience too, they're beer throwers.” He laughs heartily. (click HERE for the Rowwen Heze anniversary). Later in October, Rieu will be touring again, first to Abu Dhabi, then concerts in Germany, Romania, Austria, Slovakia, Croatia, Slovenia, and Hungary. He will end in December with a gigantic Christmas show at the MECC in his own Maastricht. In the largest ballroom in the world, they pull out all the stops, with the orchestra in full regalia and Santa hats, dancers in ball gowns, artificial snow, surprise acts, and figure skaters. And everything is exactly as the maestro wants it. And exactly as he has planned it down to the last detail, together with his Marjorie, as he does for every show. Your perfectionism is legendary. “That's where the fun is. It's dangerous at the same time, but that's also where the fun is. Even better, even better than last year.” Perfectionism has quite a negative connotation. “I've been told that, but it's not necessarily true. Take a look at Michelangelo's Pietà. Phew, talk about perfectionism! You can't just do one thing and ignore the rest, no. I have everything in my head, I want to control everything.” Even when you're at home, sitting on the couch with Marjorie in the evening? “Yes, even then. I made grape juice this weekend. Yes, God, it has to be good.” Beaming: “And it turned out delicious!” Your ambitions and dreams are pretty much limitless. I read that you once even had plans to play at the North Pole and on the moon. Laughing: “Marjorie said: 'The North Pole, boy, do you know how cold zero degrees is, and then with that wind?' My son Pierre, who takes care of everything in the company, talked to everyone and anyone to see if it was possible, if we could get icebreakers... It didn't work out.” Why that idea? “My idea was to stand right at the pole and have all the nations around us. I had read that the Russians had lowered a Russian flag onto the bottom of the sea under the ice. The Americans now even want to dominate space. Isn't that bizarre?” “And I really wanted the moon. Richard Branson wanted to build a hotel there. And then I said, I'll be the first to play there.” There's no oxygen there, is there? Then there's no sound either. “No, in a hotel. You can't play in moon suits. But there's no hotel and there won't be one. So...” Do you still have these kinds of wild plans? “I don't do that kind of thing anymore, no.” Why not? “Because I realize I'm 76, and then they think: here comes grandpa with his ideas... I am more aware of getting older. When I get up, I'm not as fit as I used to be. I used to be able to turn my neck quite a long way to the side, and now... but otherwise I feel very young.” You have often said: "I want to live to be 140." Is that still your ambition? “Oh yes, absolutely. I really think it's possible to live to be 140, and I'm working on it. It's a mindset. I do strength training every evening. I get changed and then I start lifting weights with the trainer. That gives me a feeling of ‘hey, I can still do this’. I grow my own vegetables, everything organic, no pesticides. That's also progressive insight.” So you think the combination of staying fit, healthy eating, and music will enable you to live to a ripe old age? “Definitely. And the mindset to want it. 'Optimism' is a book by cardiologist Janneke Wittekoek. Very important. Optimism brings hope, and that's all about looking forward. Forward!” Where does this desire to live so long come from? He exclaims: "Because I enjoy it so much! Ever since I've been with Marjorie, and we've been married for fifty years (October 18, 1975). I'm successful and I get applause every night. They say: oh, it's about the applause? No, of course not. It's just that I enjoy what I do. That it works. We are now rehearsing a new program with the orchestra for next year and then you hear: we are already looking forward to next year! Isn't that nice? There is no sense of obligation!" The famous pianist Horowitz was well into his eighties when he was still performing, but his technique was declining. Won't that also apply to you one day? "Oh, I can conduct. You can keep that up for much longer, until you're a hundred or two hundred." You don't have a successor. “No.” Do you ever think about that? What will happen to the orchestra and everything you've built up here? “No. I don't think it matters. I mean, I am me. When I'm gone, everything will go back to the way it was before my time.” Laughs: “But that won't be for a long time!”

André Rieu working out in his private gym with weight trainer Ruud Gransier in September 2025