Not since the launch of the Barbican in 1982 has there been such a buzz of excitement about the opening of a concert hall in the metropolis.

The two-year refit of the Royal Festival Hall is now finished, on schedule, and last night it was put to the test with a gala programme featuring all four resident orchestras.

What the audience, packed with luminaries, witnessed was the rebirth of an iconic institution. The foyers have been decluttered to afford splendid views on all four sides. The decor has been refurbished to blend the spirit of the Fifties with modern technology. Most important (for the classical world) is the miraculous improvement of the acoustics delivered by Larry Kirkegaard.

There is more clarity, more immediacy, than one could ever have hoped for two years ago. Aided by a new, timber-clad concrete ceiling, acoustic canopies and other reflectors, the players can hear themselves better while audience members can revel in the transparency, lift and enhanced vibrancy of the sound. What looked like a ragbag of a programme on paper turned out to be a clever way of demonstrating the virtues of the revitalised hall.

It was also a bold statement of intent, opening with a new commission from Julian Anderson and including Birtwistle, Ives and Ligeti as well as the Firebird Suite of Stravinsky, the choral finale of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and a logistical tour de force of an encore with all four orchestras on stage for Ravel's Bolero (a subtle, sensuous account under Marin Alsop).

The mood of celebration was set with Anderson's Alleluia, a setting of a 10th-century Latin sequence in which all creation sings aloud in praise. Pizzicato strings and plucked harps hovered evocatively in the air. The London Philharmonic Choir, with nowhere to hide in such a revealing acoustic, maintained pitch admirably and delivered a virtuoso cadenza of animated susurration.

Under Vladimir Jurowski, the LPO produced a rich variety of texture in the Firebird, though Ives's Unanswered Question was an even greater coup with atmospheric lighting, translucent offstage strings and plaintive trumpet meditations from high in the wings.

A brief snatch of Purcell from the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment showed the new potential for period-instrument bands, just as Birtwistle's Cortege deployed chamber groupings to telling effect. Following Ligeti's Atmospheres, another essay in stillness, the Philharmonia under Christoph von Dohnanyi led directly into the maelstrom of Beethoven's epic finale, where the articulation and intonation of soloists and chorus were notably enhanced. Any reservations?

Colleagues reported balance problems from parts of the hall, while crispness is at more of a premium than warmth and bloom. But when the hydraulics have been fixed and the orchestra can be raised to the full height of three feet, and when musicians (and audiences) have adjusted fully, we should be in for a new era of top-level music-making on the South Bank.

This was a night to go down in the annals.

... and rock will sound great, too

DAVID SMYTH

There'll be no worrying about the sound for Motorhead next weekend. The Festival Hall has always done a fine job with amplified rock and past shows featuring legends such as Brian Wilson and David Bowie have felt truly special.

Funky interior aside, it remains rather too smart and too intimidating for anything other than toe-tapping and polite clapping, and any band desirous of a wilder response may be in the wrong place.

For real musical abandon, Beethoven's Ninth is still best.