Burning the Piano

You know, Every generation has its superstar — the one who turns talent into legend, and performance into art.  For us, that might mean Elton John or Lady Gaga. But in the 1800s, one name ruled the musical world like a comet blazing across the sky: Franz Liszt.

A man whose concerts caused hysteria, whose charm        melted hearts, and whose fingers seemed touched by lightning.

So let’s pull back the velvet curtain and step into the age of Lisztomania!

Ghost sound

Maestro Liszt, welcome.

Thank you, Herr Bartley. Speaking across centuries is a strange delight — music is the bridge that time cannot burn.

Let’s begin at the beginning. You were born in 1811 in Raiding, Hungary, the son of a musician employed by the Esterházy family. How did music first enter your life?

Ah, Monsieur Bartley, Music was like breathing. My father played cello, piano, violin — he introduced me to the piano, and I was performing publicly at nine. By eleven, I studied with Czerny in Vienna, a pupil of Beethoven himself. The training was rigorous, but awe-inspiring.

Transcript

Hungarian Rhapsody 

Music attribution at end of transcript

Welcome to Celebrate Creativity. I’m George Bartley. This is episode 488 - Setting the piano on fire.  Today, we journey to 19th-century Europe, a world of candlelit concert halls, opulent salons, and the dazzling young man who made audiences swoon: Franz Liszt — pianist, composer, teacher, and showman extraordinaire.

You know, Every generation has its superstar — the one who turns talent into legend, and performance into art.  For us, that might mean Elton John or Lady Gaga. But in the 1800s, one name ruled the musical world like a comet blazing across the sky: Franz Liszt.

A man whose concerts caused hysteria, whose charm        melted hearts, and whose fingers seemed touched by lightning.
So let’s pull back the velvet curtain and step into the age of Lisztomania!

Ghost sound

Maestro Liszt, welcome.

Thank you, Herr Bartley. Speaking across centuries is a strange delight — music is the bridge that time cannot burn.

Let’s begin at the beginning. You were born in 1811 in Raiding, Hungary, the son of a musician employed by the Esterházy family. How did music first enter your life?

Ah, Monsieur Bartley, Music was like breathing. My father played cello, piano, violin — he introduced me to the piano, and I was performing publicly at nine. By eleven, I studied with Czerny in Vienna, a pupil of Beethoven himself. The training was rigorous, but awe-inspiring.

And your early compositions?

Small, but ambitious. My first piano pieces appeared when I was seven. After my father’s death, my family moved to Paris, where I gave lessons to survive. Yet, I also composed prolifically, soaking in the energy of the city — Chopin, Berlioz, Delacroix. Inspiration pressed upon me daily.  Note how I tried to express emotions that are gentle, lyrical, and reflective in my consolationNo.3

3 Consolation No. 3 — gentle, lyrical, reflective. 

Your European tours began shortly afterward. Tell us about that first concert in Paris that ignited wha t we now call Lisztomania.
Ah, yes. I recall stepping onto the stage, trying to stay calm. Then, after a few notes — chaos! Women fainted, men shouted for encores, gloves and handkerchiefs were snatched. Papers called it Lisztomania. It was flattering — and exhausting.

That level of frenzy! In modern terms, it’s comparable to the world’s reaction to rock icons or pop virtuosos. Imagine the energy of a 1970s Elton John concert — dazzling, electrifying, larger than life.

Indeed. Yet music remained at the heart. The spectacle grew from human passion — not mere vanity.

[Suggested music cue: Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 — fiery, virtuosic passage.]

Maestro list, Now, let’s talk about your innovations as a performer. Before you, concerts were social gatherings — a mix of singers, chamber ensembles, and soloists taking turns. You transformed the solo piano recital into an art form itself.

Yes. I wanted a direct connection with the audience. By turning the piano sideways, spectators could see my hands — witness creation in motion. I never sought to dominate the room; I sought communion. Every gesture, every nuance, every silence mattered.

And what about your repertoire? You didn’t only play your own works — you transcribed symphonies, operas, even Beethoven’s nine symphonies for solo piano. That seems almost impossible.

Impossible, perhaps, but exhilarating. I wanted to make orchestral music accessible to those who could not attend a full symphony. The piano became my orchestra. Every piece demanded skill, but also imagination. The technical challenge was my playground.  For example, note the drama and power in this portion of my Transcendental Étude. 

Transcendental Étude - near end

And yet, behind the thunder and virtuosity, there was also tenderness. Pieces such as Liebestraum No. 3 are lyrical, romantic, and deeply expressive.

Indeed. A performance must speak to both the heart and the intellect. The audience may marvel at the fireworks, but it is the tender notes that linger. That is why I balanced showpieces with lyrical works — to convey the full spectrum of human emotion.

[Suggested music cue: Liebestraum No. 3 — gentle, dreamlike.]

Your early fame brought immense adulation, but also fatigue. The term Lisztomania captures only part of the story. Can you tell us about some of the challenges you faced at the height of your celebrity?

The adoration was overwhelming. Some evenings, I would leave the stage and hide behind a curtain just to breathe. Letters and gifts arrived in such quantity, I could barely respond. I also wrestled with the pressure to constantly innovate — to astonish and delight anew. Fame is intoxicating, but it can also isolate.

That’s a timeless struggle for every artist — balancing public demand with personal creativity. Yet you managed to evolve throughout your career.

Yes. I moved from Parisian salons to grand European halls, from virtuoso displays to teaching and composition. Each stage of life required   . One must never stagnate.

[Suggested music cue: Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6 — energetic, playful.] middle

Speaking of evolution, let’s discuss your later years in Weimar, where you became a mentor and composer of symphonic poems. How did your approach to music change during this period?

I turned inward. The performance frenzy had faded, and I sought depth and spiritual meaning. My symphonic poems, sacred works, and late piano pieces explored new harmonic languages and emotional landscapes. They were quieter, but no less profound.

[Suggested music cue: Nuages Gris — contemplative and atmospheric.]

And during this time, you also took minor holy orders. From what I understand you even became the Abbé Liszt. Yet your passion for performance never fully waned.

True. Fame had been intoxicating, but spirituality brought serenity. I continued to teach, to perform, to compose — but always with reflection. Music became both devotion and expression, a bridge between the temporal and the eternal.

Your teaching left a remarkable legacy, influencing composers like Wagner, Saint-Saëns, and Grieg. What was your approach to nurturing talent?

I emphasized discipline, curiosity, and emotional honesty. Technique is important, yes, but the soul of music must shine through. Every student must discover their own voice — I simply guide, illuminate, and challenge.

[Suggested music cue: Consolation No. 3 reprise — calm, reflective.]

And that influence stretches into modern times. Your combination of virtuosity, performance innovation, and emotional depth shaped the very concept of the solo pianist as an artist — a concept that lives on in concert halls today.

Music is eternal. While fashions change, the pursuit of beauty, the expression of the human spirit — these endure. That is the gift I hoped to leave behind.

Finally, if you look back on your life — the early fame, the dizzying tours, the compositional triumphs, and the quiet late years — what would you say brought you the greatest joy?


It is the moment between notes — the pause, the breath, the silence that gives music meaning. Fame is fleeting; applause fades. But the music itself — that is eternal.

[Suggested music cue: Consolation No. 3 — gentle fade.]

Franz Liszt — virtuoso, poet, visionary. Your story reminds us that creativity is not only brilliance or spectacle, but heart, courage, and enduring vision.

Monsieur List, I read a charming anecdote from one of your students: during a lesson, you allegedly told a pupil, “If your fingers can’t speak, let your soul scream through them.”
Ah yes — I often exhorted my students to channel emotion. Technique is the handmaiden, emotion the queen. Without soul, the piano is just wood and strings.
And speaking of soul, your later sacred works, like the Via Crucis, reflect a more meditative, spiritual side.
Indeed. I sought depth beyond applause. Music is a vessel for the divine — a conversation between human and eternal.
A note this modern day remix of your benediction to God in solitude.
12.5 benediction
Even in your old age, visitors wrote about your humility and warmth. One contemporary recalled, “He welcomed all — prince or student — with the same gentle curiosity and radiant smile.”
 I always remembered my own youth — the wonder, the trepidation, the hunger for expression. I wanted to honor that in everyone I taught or performed for.
Thank you for joining us, monse list.
Merci, George. May all who listen find their own moment between the notes.

Hungarian Rhapsody by Franz Liszt. Performed by Nesrality, Source: Musopen — https://pixabay.com/music/classical-piano-franz-liszt-hungarian-rhapsody-12-classical-remix-8497/
License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Consolation Number, S.172 - Lento. By Franz Liszt. Performed by Nesrality. Source: https://dl.musopen.org/recordings/6d72117c-341c-4d21-80c6-b4addd9044ab.mp3?filename=Consolations%2C%20S.172%20-%203.%20Lento%2C%20quasi%20recitativo.mp3
License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording)

Dreams of Love. By Franz Liszt. Performed by Nesrality. Source: https://pixabay.com/music/search/franz%20liszt/ License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Nuages gris, S. 199. By Franz Liszt. Performed by Peter Bradley-Fulgoni
Performed by Nesrality. Source: https://musopen.org/music/1052-nuages-gris-s-199/ License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Benediction to God in Solitude. By Franz Liszt. Performed by Nesrality. Source: https://cdn.pixabay.com/download/audio/2021/09/19/audio_11d0daea7b.mp3?filename=franz-liszt-benediction-to-god-in-solitude-classical-remix-8495.mp3 License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).

Hungarian Rhapsody by Franz Liszt. Performed by Nesrality, Source: Musopen — https://pixabay.com/music/classical-piano-franz-liszt-hungarian-rhapsody-12-classical-remix-8497/ License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording).