Divine Art Records

Catalogue Connection: 21144

  • Liszt Transcriptions Fanfare Review

    Liszt Transcriptions Fanfare Review

    I’m glad that this charming recital of Liszt transcriptions, which was recorded in 2007, has made it into print. I was unacquainted with Lithuanian pianist Indrė Petrauskaitė, but she’s technically impressive. Lacking much specific biographical detail, I gather that Petrauskaitė was finishing her advanced studies around this time. In any event, the side of Liszt’s vast output devoted to transcribing the music of other composers is often disarming, and he was particularly noted for bringing Schubert’s Lieder to a wider public that might have undervalued them. The wide swath of transcriptions that Petrauskaitė presents covers a range of ambitiousness from the modestly literal to the bravura virtuosity that dominated Liszt’s reputation as a performer.

    Central to Petrauskaitė’s appeal is her limpid touch and lyrical sensitivity to the Schubert group, the largest one here. Some readers are old enough to remember when there was a wide gap between Schubert’s “pure” art and the carnival that Liszt brought to town, a gap that prevented all but a few pianists from venturing into this repertoire. I think back to CDs by Lazar Berman and Frederic Chiu that crossed this line. With today’s laissez-faire attitude, however, it is possible for Alexandre Kantorow, in his Carnegie Hall debut after winning the Tchaikovsky International Competition in Moscow, to feature Schubert-Liszt transcriptions—the program was duplicated on a 2024 recital disc on BIS, which overlaps with Petrauskaitė in two songs, “Der Müller und der Bach” and “Frühlingsglaube.”

    Kantorow approaches them as meditations on subtle emotional states, and he possesses the nuanced touch and personal presence to make his case. Petrauskaitė is by no means far behind, and in “Der Müller und der Bach” she is slower and more reflective than Kantorow, even though her touch isn’t as refined. She isn’t afraid, moreover, to “play big,” as she demonstrates in the one Liszt transcription that has become an encore cliché, Schumann’s “Widmung.” She gives it a rich-toned treatment without reaching the song’s climactic grandeur too soon, a common fault. The recorded sound, which focuses on providing a resonant bass, is her ally.

    In his late years Horowitz brought high visibility to Isoldes Liebestod, but I felt he leaned too heavily on the tremolando in the left hand that substitutes for sustained string tone in the orchestra. It’s a tricky balancing act, and Petrauskaitė starts out unpropitiously by banging on the opening chords. But frankly, Liszt’s attempt to imitate Wagner’s orchestral sonority is futile, and I applaud Petrauskaitė’s approach, which is to regard the melody as a song rather than a grand aria. Her delicate phrasing is captivating, showing a genuine lyrical gift.

    As for limitations, Petrauskaitė’s rhythmic sense can be foursquare, as at the beginning of Senta’s Ballad from The Flying Dutchman, where both hands seem to churn. When it is necessary to transcend Liszt’s arrangement, as in “Der Doppelgänger” from Schwanengesang, in order to reach the emotional depth that a great Lieder singer can impart, Petrauskaitė gets an honorable mention compared with Kantorow’s mysterious and moving “Die Stadt” from the same song cycle.

    Petrauskaitė doesn’t occupy a charisma-free zone, but this recital isn’t a star turn. While lacking the last ounce of panache, she is thoroughly musical. Bigger names haven’t done as well in this material, which Petrauskaitė successfully uplifts beyond the genre of working transcriptions.

  • Liszt Transcriptions MusicWeb International Review

    Liszt Transcriptions MusicWeb International Review

    Reviewer Stuart Sillitoe enjoyed Lithuanian pianist Indrė Petrauskaitė’s Ravel disc recorded for Toccata Classics (TOCC0508 review) and I find myself enjoying this Liszt recital recorded some ten years earlier, only now appearing as a Divine Art release. It was recorded in Lithuania in 2007 when, according to the Divine Art website, “her still newly independent home country of Lithuania had begun acquiring concert grand pianos for their fine concert halls”. Evidently this was among the first outings for the new Steinway in the Klaipĕda Concert Hall and very fine it sounds. Petrauskaitė coaxes a lovely sound out of the instrument and in the opening piece, Liszt’s transcription of Schumann’s Widmung, it is clear that a lyrical line is her first priority; the piece’s origin as a song is first and foremost in her playing though Liszt’s contribution is not downplayed as her strength in the climax demonstrates.

    The recital is dedicated to composers seen through the lens of Liszt’s imagination and concentrates on his transcriptions rather than his paraphrases and réminiscences and mostly familiar ones at that. It is perhaps not surprising that these works have stood the test of time; Liszt could seemingly turn even the basest metal into gold but when presented with works of genius he rose to the challenge with a vengeance. Wagner’s drama’s inspired Liszt to great heights – his recreation of the overture to Tannhäuser is clear evidence of this – and Petrauskaitė has chosen two contrasting numbers that both showcase Liszt’s skill. Isoldes Liebestod is a study in controlled growth, holding that breathless tension until it can be held no longer, a huge climax that even Liszt wasn’t sure could be fully realised on the piano – he offered two alternative versions of how to recreate the sustain of the massive climactic chords while a later composer, Moritz Moszkowski offered a third – but modern pianos are better suited to the task and Petrauskaitė is easily its equal. The Spinning songtranscription from the Flying Dutchman is a glorious arrangement that is perhaps all the better for the fact that its florid and highly decorative accompaniment should not detract from the playfulness of the melody. Its wizardry is wonderfully evoked by Petrauskaitė.

    The lyrical facets of Widmung and imaginative virtuosity of the Wagner are qualities brought to bear in four of Liszt’s huge corpus of Schubert song transcriptions. The most restrained, certainly in terms of keyboard decoration is the unnerving Der Doppelgänger where Petrauskaitė brings a clear distinction of timbre to vocal and accompanying piano parts and fully captures the horror of the narrator at the vision of doom in front of him. Petrauskaitė maintains this eloquence through Der Müller und der Bach and the complex textures and wide stretches of Frühlingsglaube ending the short group on a lighter note, clearly enjoying the sparkle and cheeky humour of Hark, hark the lark. This was once a popular encore if not quite as ubiquitous as the sixth of Liszt’s Soirée de Vienne once was; even now this elegant waltz is by far the most frequently played of the set. All nine are wonderful medleys derived from Schubert’s large collection of short dances and, while the attention turned to Johann Strauss rather than Schubert, they can be seen to have spawned a vast collection of waltz transcriptions from numerous virtuosi in the years that followed. Petrauskaitė is as gracious as anyone in this piece, finding the right balance of caprice in its quicksilver arabesques. She ends with another altogether grander waltz, that from Gounod’s opera Faust. This piece straddles the border between transcription and paraphrase; the waltz is astonishing and that I prefer this transcription to the original – sorry Gounod-philes. Liszt brings his opera fantasy-hat to the table by adding an extra dimension to the middle section in which Faust and Marguerite’s waltz interlude concludes with an shimmering and extended cadenza-like section based on the third act Ô nuit d’amour.  Petrauskaitė is magisterial here and brings this recital to a virtuosic and glittering conclusion. The sound is lovely with the piano captured marvelously and the booklet has useful information about the repertoire. An admirable release.

  • Liszt Transcriptions Textura Review

    Exactly why this splendid set of Franz Liszt piano transcriptions is only now seeing the light of day after being recorded in July 2007 (at the Klaipeda Concert Hall in Klaipeda, Lithuania) isn’t entirely clear; the passage of almost two decades has in no way diminished its lustre, however. Performed exquisitely by Lithuanian pianist Indre Petrauskaite, the fifty-two-minute recital presents Liszt’s treatments of material by Robert Schumann, Richard Wagner, Charles Gounod, and Franz Schubert, with the results saying as much about Liszt as the composers transcribed. While Gounod and Schumann are represented by single pieces and Wagner two, the lion’s share go to Schubert, the subject of five.

    Being a creative artist as opposed to mechanistic scrivener, Liszt (1811-86) couldn’t help but impose himself on these works, and the transcriptions offer an illuminating account of him as interpreter. His efforts allowed people to experience the original material in an admittedly altered form in the privacy of their homes, and were expertly crafted; after all, arrangements, be they strict transcriptions or freer re-compositions, constituted almost half of his output. Petrauskaite’s exposure to this music came early, at the age of seven, in fact, when she first heard a recording of Schubert’s “Der Müller und der Bach,” the inspiration for the project. Ample academic and performance ground had been covered by the pianist prior to the album’s 2007 recording, with an impressive number of awards and degrees acquired along the way. Aside from this recording, her discography includes releases of solo piano music by Ravel and Mozart. She’s currently based in London, where she both teaches and performs.

    Complementing her performances, Petrauskaite’s liner notes provide excellent context, background, and insight. She clarifies, for instance, the difference between a Liszt paraphrase and transcription, describing the former as “a free composition that, while based mostly on another composer’s music, diverges quite significantly from the original,” the result a transformation as opposed to material hewing precisely to the original. To illustrate, his transcription of “Isoldes Liebestod” from Tristan und Isolde is largely faithful to Wagner’s original (referring to his piano score of Berlioz’sSymphonie fantastique, Liszt stated, “I applied myself as scrupulously as if I were translating a sacred text to transferring, not only the symphony’s musical framework, but also its detailed effects and the multiplicity of its instrumental and rhythmic combinations to the piano”).

    Originally set to text by Friedrich Rückert, Schumann’s “Widmung” is the first song in the 1840 song-cycle Myrthen, which he dedicated to Clara Wieck as a wedding gift. Though it was arranged for piano by her, that didn’t stop Liszt from adding his own signature to the transcription, his contribution especially audible during the grandiose second half. No matter who’s most responsible for the treatment, this romantic evocation wholly enchants, as does Liszt’s arrangement of “Isoldes Liebestod.” After opening with a dramatic chord, the piece quietens as if readying itself for its slow, emphatic ascent. In the voluptuous design of the transcription, the opulence of the orchestral score isn’t entirely lost, making for a still-powerful treatment in a solo pianistic form. It also doesn’t hurt that Petrauskaite invests herself fully in the performance and allows the emotion of the music to come through unreservedly. Contrasting in tone, Liszt’s1860 transcription of Wagner’s “Spinnerlied” (from Der Fliegende Holländer) charms with, trills, ripples, flourishes, and other virtuosic dazzle.

    The five Schubert treatments follow, starting with “Der Doppelgänger” from the cycle Schwanengesang, the last work written before his 1828 death. Almost unbearably sombre, the funereal piece finds the composer seemingly staring agitatedly into the abyss and anticipating his demise. Plunging even further into darkness, however, is “Der Müller und der Bach” (from the 1823 song-cycle Die Schöne Müllerin), during which the protagonist ends his life. As bleak as this setting generally is, it also features a central passage where sunlight pierces the gloom and irradiates the material with lyrical splendour. The composer’s tender side comes to the fore in “Frühlingsglaube,” which Schubert wrote in 1820 and dedicated to a woman whose daughter died that same year. Transcribed by Liszt eighteen years later, the material lends itself perfectly to a solo piano arrangement in being hushed, poetic, and intimate. Lighter in spirit and carefree by comparison is “Ständchen von Shakespeare (Horch, horch! Die Lerch!),” written in 1826; the last of the five, “Soirées de Vienne,” perpetuates that tone but in an exuberant waltz form. The piece reflects Liszt’s involvement to a greater degree than some of the others, given that he selected nine pieces from Schubert’s groups of piano waltzes to create the Soirées de Vienne cycle (Petrauskaite performs its sixth).The album concludes with its longest transcription, an eleven-minute rendering of “Valse” from Gounod’s opera Faust (1856-59), based, of course, on Goethe’s tragedy. Downplaying the diabolical and macabre approach some performers favour, Petrauskaite opts for a triumphant and grandiose reading of Liszt’s paraphrase. It’s more than a one-dimensional exercise, however, as shown by the gentle lyricism of a trills-enhanced episode featuring Faust and Marguarite. While Petrauskaite has seen and done much since recording this album in 2007, Liszt Piano Transcriptions has lost none of its ability to captivate, in large part because of its engrossing performances by the pianist. While none of the nine pieces were formally composed by Liszt, his fingerprints are all over them—as are hers.

  • Liszt Transcriptions Audiophile Audition Review

    Lithuanian pianist Indré Petrauskaité boasts a distinguished pedagogy that includes Peter Flankl, John O’Conor, Robert Levin, Boris Berman, Leif Ove Andsnes, and Paul Lewis. The present all-Liszt-transcriptions album, recorded in 2007, embraces a portion of the Liszt legacy especially attracted to other composers for their potential as creative, virtuoso show-pieces that demonstrate the fecundity of the piano as both a salon and “symphonic” instrument.

    Petrauskaité opens the recital with Liszt’s transcription of Robert Schumann’s 1840 lied “Widmung,” a florid arrangement of a love song meant for Clara Schumann, the composer’s newly-wed. The recording by Ruth Slenczynska set a standard that yet endures, and the present rendition projects its own, ardent lyricism, given that Liszt embellishes the left hand with a throbbing ardor and then proceeds, via cascades and daring leaps, to imbue the second half of the song with vehemence worthy of a virtuoso étude that echoes Schubert’s Ave Maria at the coda.

    The 1867 transcription of “Isoldes Liebestod” unfolds slowly, in liquid figures under Petrauskaité, the harmonies unwilling to resolve as the tension mounts in symphonic evocations of erotic love and transcendent death. Some pianists prefer Moszkowski’s passionate rendering of this music, but Liszt has a full, titanic grasp of the symbolism of this sustained spasm of emotion, ending with the intertwining of the thumbs, the ivy and the vine. The sparkle and flavor of Petrauskaité’s closing arpeggios more than suggest her capacities in Debussy.

    The 1860 transcription of Wagner’s “Spinning Chorus” from The Flying Dutchman flaunts keyboard virtuosity in runs and trills, all executed by a light hand. The influence of Mendelssohn’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream seems no less a presence, elfin and transparent. The layering of the registers as we approach the darting motions of the coda enjoys an astonishing fleetness of execution. A very different affect ensues, in the form of Schubert’s eerie lied after Heine, “Der Doppelgänger,” of 1828. The B minor tonality, as sustained by repetitive, dark chords and tremolos, attains a dire menace, as the narrator gazes upon his old beloved’s home to find it occupied by himself! In this rendition, Dostoyevsky might have found an echo of his reflections on this disturbing motif.

    The urge to self-destruction finds grim realization in Schubert’s 1823 “Der Müller und der Bach,“ Liszt’s transcription’s dating from 1846. The recitative-like progression bears the weight of fatal self-reflection; and it is here that, in her liner notes, that Petrauskaité reveals the presence of a new Steinway instrument, a strong sonority long denied the concert halls of her home city, Kleipeda, Lithuania. Emotional consolation follows, in the form of Schubert’s 1820 lied “Frühlingsglaube,” the poem by Uhland set for solo keyboard by Liszt in 1838.

    The need for affective calm establishes itself in A-flat major, a lovely parlando that allows Liszt to introduce – within this Spring evocation – improvisatory elements and their assuaging colors. A beautiful transparency illuminates the reading. The last of the Schubert song transcriptions, “Hark, Hark, the Lark” (1826), derives from Cymbeline, Shakespeare’s 1611 Celtic romantic tragedy. Liszt set this song for solo piano between 1837-38. The virtuosity in this piece is most subtle, lying in degrees of touch and inflection rather than bold, stentorian declamations. 

    In a rather percussive mode, Petrauskaité sails into Schubert’s Soirées de Vienne, arrangements by Liszt of selected Schubert waltzes, which exist in plenty. When the pulverized dust clears, some enchanting dances emerge, swaying, lilting, and darting forward as the impulse requires.  Liszt’s idea of improvisation lies in adding fioritura to the waltz in variation, shifting registers and accents while maintaining a basic pulse, a lesson well taught by Chopin. For seven minutes, we bask in the throes – not always gentle but splendidly ornamented – of the salon world well documented by Stefan Zweig in The World of Yesterday.

    For her grand coda, Petrauskaité chooses what would offer the most bravura opportunity: Gounod’s Faust waltz as arranged by Liszt. Our artist in her notes mentions Gyorgy Cziffra as among the great exponents of this brilliant piece, but she opts for a lyrically subdued reading, although her instrument projects its own, upper-register pearls. Introspective, the interpretation gives us the meditative Faust, less in the throes of Mephistopheles than of Gretchen (or Marguarite, if you prefer), rippling and advancing by such water drops as we find in the Villa d’Este. Liszt’s own fioritura, of course, must intrude, and we soon feel as though in the grip of one of the more pungent Hungarian Rhapsodies. The last pages serve as cadenza-coda, a super changed plummet above and below, ending with the hammer blows of fate.

  • Liszt Piano Transcriptions

    Liszt Piano Transcriptions

    In February 2026 Divine Art presents an album of well-loved piano transcriptions by Franz Liszt of songs and arias by Robert Schumann, Richard Wagner, Franz Schubert and Charles Gounod, from Lithuanian pianist Indrė Petrauskaitė. These dazzling showpieces for the piano provide fascinating insight into how one composer effectively interprets the work of another.

    Throughout his life and through his work, Franz Liszt shared his deep love for the music of his fellow composers, arranging their works for piano, the main instrument for domestic music-making in the 19th century. He wanted to help people enjoy popular musical works in a private setting when there was less access to orchestras and concerts. Liszt is one of the greatest transcribers of the nineteenth century and perhaps of all time. Nearly half of his output consists of arrangements, from strict transcriptions to freely recomposed paraphrases.

    Pianist Indrė Petrauskaitė’s first music history lesson in Lithuania at the age of seven was about genre and song, during which she heard a recording of Schubert’s ‘Der Müller und der Bach’, featured in Liszt’s transcription on this release, and it was the inspiration behind the programming on the album, recorded in 2007. It was only then that her still newly independent home country of Lithuania had begun acquiring concert grand pianos for their fine concert halls, such as the new Steinway in Klaipėda’s Concert Hall where this recording took place.

    The album opens with Liszt’s transcriptions of two passionate and romantic works: Schumann’s ‘Widmung’ from the song cycle Myrthen and ‘Isoldes Liebestod’ from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, followed by the charming and magical ‘Spinnerlied’ from Wagner’s Der Fliegende Holländer. Several transcriptions of Schubert’s lied are featured here: the sombre ‘Der Doppelgänger’ from Schwanengesang and ‘Der Müller under der Bach’ (the inspiration for the album) from Die Schöne Müllerin; the soothing ‘Frühlingsglaube’ and the delightful and imaginative ‘Ständchen von Shakespeare’ (Horch, hoch! Die Lerch!); finally a piece (No.6) from Liszt’s own Soirées de Vienne cycle – arrangements of Schubert’s tremendous 12 Valses Nobles, D.969. The album has a ‘coda’: the ‘Valse’ from Gounod’s opera Faust, the subject of several works by Liszt. This famous virtuoso piano transcription is full of drama and excitement, with ‘diabolic’ sections but also gentle and lyrical, at times even transcendant.

    Indrė Petrauskaitė says “It is delightful to take the example from Liszt himself and continue to ‘practise’ the love for the original music while ‘revisiting’ these famous transcriptions”.

    After graduate and postgraduate studies at the Lithuanian Academy of Music, Indrė entered the Royal Academy of Music where she has completed her Masters degree. She has performed with several orchestras in Lithuania and elsewhere in Europe and given many solo and chamber music recitals. She is now based in London, combining teaching and performing.