What other London venue can boast a concert hall lined with the wood of an entire 500-year-old Bavarian oak, felled at full moon? Hall One of Kings Place certainly seemed the perfect breathing space for the players of the London Sinfonietta, who already seem happily settled in their new home. Their short programme of European Connections - slivers and shards of the 20th-century soundworld - certainly sounded more exciting than it would have done at the South Bank, where they are still officially in residence. Alan Walker's flute soared and sang in Density 21.5 by Varese. Then came the tiny Quintettino No 2 by Sciarrino, its bright clarinet notes scattered like dust in the unpitched breathing of flute, oboe and horn. Gareth Hulse tested the acoustic further with the single note of B, in the dance and drone of Berio's Sequenza, followed by Ligeti's Ten Pieces for wind quintet.

The London Sinfonietta had been welcomed into the hall with a world premiere by Philip Cashian, conducted by Richard Baker, and performed by the ensemble together with a choir of Kings Place office workers. Opening of the House was 15 minutes of well-nigh incomprehensible vocalise and sound- sampling - until the composer explained that the tape was spliced from archive material featuring a local coalman on his rounds, and the choral parts were “phoneticised” particles of local place names.

In between these two short concerts (both of which may be heard next Thursday on Radio 3), I couldn't resist pushing my way through the merry throng and sidestepping into Hall Two, where a guided tour of south Indian music was taking place. I arrived just in time to hear the influence of Irish fiddlers from the East India Company on the music of Madras; two rhythmically complex ragas; and some robust Carnatik choral singing in India tonic solfa. You never know what you might find at Kings Place: I can't wait to return.

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