I was thirteen years old and was, for the very first time, seeing musical theater that didn't involve cowhands or sailors or such groups thigh-slapping their way through two hours of good musical fun. I sat perched on the very edge of my seat in a darkened theater in London's West End and watched the unfolding of West Side Story - the story of Romeo and Juliet set in modern day New York. As I sit here now I can still feel the sense of wonder that gripped me then. Really, I can. I had never seen a West End musical live before and here I was listening to a live band in the pit playing Bernstein's amazing score, watching dancers bring a passion to choreography that I had not realised possible. And the women. Oh yes, gentle reader, the women. These women made my adolescent hormones positively bubble through my bloodstream bringing messages to my brain that it barely knew how to process. Until that very moment I don't think I had quite fully understood the song "There is nothing like a dame!" But, oh, there was nothing like these dames! They were wild, exotic and hot. Well, except for the sweet and virginal Maria and when she and Tony expressed their (relatively) innocent love for one another - "Te amo, Maria" "Te amo, Tony" - I suspect that I felt ashamed of the somewhat baser feelings I had had for Anita while watching the dance at the gym just a few minutes earlier *. You will have gathered by now that West Side Story holds a special place in my memories. It's actually more than that. It remains - and I do not expect it to be supplanted any time soon, my all-time favourite musical. It is a point of pride to me that I got to play clarinet in the pit in the first ever amateur production of West Side Story.

I thought it may be a good idea to mention here that tomorrow morning at 10am All Classical 89.9fm, Portland's very own and wonderful all-classical radio station will be broadcasting Portland Opera's production of Bizet's Carmen which opened last season's offerings.  Those of you who attended and saw Jossie Perez's performance of the title role will want to hear it again and for those of you who didn't, now is your chance!  Either way 89.9 on your radio dial is the place to be tomorrow morning for an off-season opera fix.

The picture?  One of my personal favorites,  tenor Richard Troxell who sang Don José in our production of Carmen is shown singing the National Anthem at opening day for the Baltimore Orioles this year.  'Cos they don't have any bullfighting in Baltimore, see.

And by the way, Richard Troxell will be back in September to sing Alfredo in our season opener, La Traviata.

Maestro James Levine, 65 year old ringmaster extraordinaire of the Metropolitan Opera orchestra pit and conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, has had to cancel his remaining performances at Tanglewood this Summer. After last weekend's performance of Berlioz Les Troyens ( a multi-hour marathon which is performed in two halves, one on Saturday night the other on Sunday afternoon). Levine informed management that he would be admitted to hospital this week to undergo nephrectomy surgery - the removal of a kidney. Apparently tests have discovered a cyst on that kidney which is causing pressure and discomfort. It is no secret that such cysts are commonly cancerous but a surgeon friend of mine tells me that removal of the affected kidney is often a successful treatment and we do quite well firing on only one kidney. Levine’s hospital stay is likely to be around four days and then some weeks of recuperation at home is called for.

Over the last few years I have developed unreserved admiration for Maestro Levine's skills in the orchestra pit and a good deal of affection for him personally. The obvious joy and enthusiasm he shows for his work are a pleasure to watch. And as I have commented here before when I see him enter the pit and hoist himself up onto his seat before the podium I relax, knowing that whatever other disasters may befall theperformance the orchestra will turn in a performance that will be at the very least polished and may be revelatory.

Maestro Levine is scheduled to conduct the Metropolitan Opera Opening Night Gala on September 22nd, and it really just won't be the same if he isn't there, so please join me in hoping for his speedy and complete recovery.

It's what you - or more particularly, I - don't know that comes as such a delightful though sometimes disturbing surprise to me over and over again. F'rinstance, I know a bit about opera. Perhaps more than just a bit or I suppose someone else would be writing this blog and I would not be able to use the soubriquet Operaman without producing a chorus of sniggers. I am well aware that I am not in any way an opera expert but I am cognizant enough of the general canon that if someone mentions Monteverdi I don't think they are discussing a light and fruity white from the hills surrounding Florence and I can immediately pitch in with a smattering of talk of opera in early 17th century Venice.

A few weeks ago Sir Alexander McCall Smith visited Portland from his home in Scotland. For those of you for whom that name rings no bells let me explain that he is famous on two different fronts. As an author he has written a very successful series of books whose theme is The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency. There have so far been nine of these novels all of which are set in Botswana and revolve around not only the solving of mysteries but the eccentricities and foibles of the characters involved. A series is in preparation for broadcast on BBC television, so I imagine that we may expect to see it here a few years down the road. In addition to his authoring, Smith is the founder and driving force behind the The Really Terrible Orchestra. This group of players whose enthusiasm greatly outweighs their technical ability or musicality was founded by Smith in 1995 as "an inclusive orchestra for those who really want to play, but who cannot do so very well. Or cannot do so at all, in some cases." This orchestra has developed something of a cult following, particularly in Edinburgh where it regularly performs at the annual Edinburgh Festival under what it describes as the distinguished baton of Sir Richard Neville-Towle. Indeed so popular have they become that a guest gig is much sought after, as evidenced by the fact that when they performed the Major-General's song from Gilbert and Sullivan's HMS Pinafore they had a real Major-General to sing it. Sir Alexander wrote a charming column for the New York Times recently entitled “And The Band Played Badly.” I recommend that you read it and give yourself a smile to get the week off to a happy start.