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Today’s Hottie of the Week is Franz Ritter von Liszt, better known simply as Franz Liszt. Born in 1811, Liszt is considered one of the greatest composers in Classical music and was considered by his peers to be the most technically accomplished and advanced pianist of his age; many would consider him to be the greatest of all time.  Composer, piano teacher, music transcriber, conductor: this man could do it all and did it all while looking a bit like Severus Snape. Turn to page 394 indeed.

Can’t you FEEL the smolder?? He’s smoldering at us. Watch out, Flynn Rider! Here he reminds me a bit of the model and makeup artiste and entrepreneur Edward Bess. (Seriously, his makeup is amazing and he himself is mighty easy on the eyes in addition to being completely charming in person. But I digress. Hotties!!)

This is Liszt in 1858. He also enjoyed staring off into middle distance wistfully when he got older. Still a good-looking man; sensitive, but with a strong profile. And I do enjoy the wistfulness.

Trivia Tidbit: apparently, people went buck-wild for Liszt when he played; this phenomenon became so widespread that the writer Heinrich Heine in his review of the musical season of 1844 gave it a name: Lisztomania, i.e., the “intense fan frenzy directed toward Franz Liszt during his performances” even to the point of hysteria.  I cannot cannot CANNOT make this up. This man was the original Beetle. And I quote: “Liszt’s playing was reported to raise the mood of the audience to a level of mystical ecstasy. Admirers of Liszt would swarm over him, fighting over his handkerchiefs and gloves.Fans would wear his portrait on brooches and cameos.  Women would try to get locks of his hair, and whenever he broke a piano string, admirers would try to obtain it in order to make a bracelet.Some female admirers would even carry glass phials into which they poured his coffee dregs. According to one report: ‘Liszt once threw away an old cigar stump in the street under the watchful eyes of an infatuated lady-in-waiting, who reverently picked the offensive weed out of the gutter, had it encased in a locket and surrounded with the monogram “F.L.” in diamonds, and went about her courtly duties unaware of the sickly odour it gave forth.‘ “

There you have it, folks. 19th century panties all on the floor, giving it up for Liszt. It just doesn’t get better than this.

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