MUSIC: Barry Douglas Series, Wigmore Hall, London

The Belfast-born pianist proves that he's as much at home in chamber music as in those big concertos. By Anthony Payne

Not all successful concerto pianists prove themselves equally at home in the more intimate and civilised world of chamber music, although there is hardly a concerto that does not need chamber music skills at some point. Barry Douglas certainly possesses those skills, and his chamber series at the Wigmore Hall opened on Wednesday with a taxing and wide- ranging programme of violin sonatas in which he partnered the equally impressive Raphael Oleg, first prize-winner at the 1986 Tchaikovsky competition.

Both players possess strong interpretative personalities, and during the first half there was a certain amount of jockeying for position as each sought to reconcile his individual perceptions with ensemble requirements. The art of chamber music playing, in which individuality must not be sacrificed, yet must take account of the contributions of others, poses the subtlest of problems, both human and musical, and increasingly Douglas and Oleg came to terms with themselves and the music as the evening progressed.

So many recital programmes adopt chronological principles, opening with a classical item, which often suffers by being used as a warm-up exercise, and progressing through the romantics to the moderns. So the players' reversal of the process here was in itself refreshing. They started with Poulenc's Sonata and immediately arrested our attention by plunging into its turbulent world with no regard for personal safety. The work's bitter and even tragic impetus is intimately bound up with the shooting of Garcia Lorca, and its alternation of protest and nocturnal impressions drew a passionate response from both players. If there was a sense that each was a little too obsessed with his own part, this gave the interpretation a particularly intense profile, and Poulenc's dislocated final cadence fell perfectly into place.

The Elgar Sonata also drew whole-hearted playing, and the tendency for nobly affirmative lyricism to withdraw into exquisitely inward fancy and regret was fully appreciated. Each player brought an intense perceptiveness to bear but, as in the Poulenc, there was sometimes the feeling that the emotional ebb and flow was not quite synchronised. And it was not until Brahms's A major Sonata that these two outstanding players aligned their insights in a perfectly integrated performance. Somehow from the very outset, with Douglas's wonderfully warm piano sonority and natural impulse underpinning Oleg's freely expanding cantabile, things felt right.

This was indeed an interpretation to recall with joy. The complexities, intimacies and far from unclouded serenity were superbly articulated, and the duo's high form was carried through into a vigorous and majestic reading of Beethoven's Sonata in E flat, Op 12 No 3. The sheer newness of Beethoven's cast of thought, as it must have seemed at the close of the 18th century, was re-created in the freshness of Douglas's and Oleg's approach. The grandeur of the Adagio drew playing of complete single-mindedness, and the finale's characteristic brand of high spirits generated an irresistible impetus.

Barry Douglas joins London Winds and Michael Collins, clarinet, tomorrow 4pm, Wigmore Hall, London W1 (0171-935 2141)