Imagine a pianist so electrifying that women would literally fight over his broken piano strings, keeping them as relics in lockets and vials. Welcome to the world of Franz Liszt, the 19th century's first true superstar and the man who basically invented the concept of the solo recital. Before Liszt came along in the 1840s, concerts were hodgepodge affairs with multiple performers. He changed everything by walking on stage alone, playing from memory, and absolutely destroying the piano—both figuratively and literally.

Born in Hungary in 1811, Liszt was a child prodigy who caught Beethoven's attention at age eleven. Legend has it that after hearing young Franz play, Beethoven kissed him on the forehead, passing the torch to the next generation. But Liszt didn't just want to be good—he wanted to be the best. After hearing the violin virtuoso Niccolò Paganini perform in 1832, Liszt became obsessed with achieving the same level of technical mastery on piano. He locked himself away for years, practicing up to fourteen hours a day, developing techniques that are still considered incredibly difficult today.

What really set Liszt apart wasn't just his superhuman technique—it was how he performed. He'd toss his gloves to the audience, shake his long hair dramatically, and play with such passion that he'd sometimes break piano strings or even entire instruments. The phenomenon became known as "Lisztomania," and it was so intense that Heinrich Heine compared it to a religious frenzy. Women would swoon, scream, and rush the stage. One countess reportedly carried his cigar stub in her cleavage. This wasn't just classical music anymore—this was entertainment bordering on hysteria.

But here's the twist: at the height of his fame, Liszt walked away from it all. In 1847, he stopped performing publicly and dedicated himself to composing, teaching, and supporting other musicians. He never charged his students a penny, helping launch the careers of dozens of future stars. Later in life, he even took minor religious vows and became known as Abbé Liszt. The man who'd once been classical music's ultimate showman ended his days as a generous mentor and spiritual seeker. He died in 1886, but not before revolutionizing what it meant to be a performer—paving the way for everyone from Liberace to Elton John. Now that's a legacy worth breaking a few piano strings over.