There are always plenty of people to thank at free outdoor concerts such as Saturday’s 16th annual Charlie Parker Jazz Festival — producers, sponsors, press partners (in this case the City Parks Foundation, Bloomberg, Time Warner, and WBGO-FM). But only one entity deserves credit for the success of this year’s event, and that’s the Big Weather Guy in the Sky, who saw to it that the temperature in Harlem’s Marcus Garvey Park was bearable and the humidity was low. In fact, this was the first Parker in memory that wasn’t excruciating; last year, it was so hot and sticky that the headliner, Abbey Lincoln, canceled. This year, it was a breeze — literally.

In fact, everyone was so grateful for the perfect weather that the whole event seemed doubly energized. Of course, performing in front of an appreciative, uptown crowd doesn’t hurt, either. This is the place where they invented the phrases “put your hands together” and “give it up for … .” At least two of the four featured acts — the pianist Robert Glasper and vocalist Vanessa Rubin — were as good as I’ve ever seen them.

Mr. Glasper and his trio (with Vicente Archer on bass and Chris Dave on drums) began brightly with “Melody for Myself,” an attractive (and as yet unrecorded) major melody in a fast waltz time. The leader offered a couple of solid tunes from his own two Blue Note albums, during which I was particularly struck by his use of dynamics; Mr. Glasper imbues his solos with a keen sense of drama by using the appropriate “pianos” and “fortes.” The set climaxed with an extended piece that he described as an amalgam of three or four tunes, “because,” he said, “I have ADD.” It began with an unaccompanied intro that referenced both stride and postmodern free playing, led to some attractive trio sections, and included long solo “movements” for both bass and drums.

For the next act, we transitioned from the high-energy trio to an even higher-energy quintet. The drummer Rashied Ali is best known for his explosive percussion work with John Coltrane’s final, avant-garde ensemble of 1965-67. But Mr. Ali’s current quintet is a direct extension of the more user-friendly music of Coltrane’s earlier “classic” quartet. It is the same band, playing some of the same music, as the one featured on Mr. Ali’s 2006 albums “Judgment Day Vol. 1” and “Judgment Day Vol. 2,” including Lawrence Clark on tenor saxophone, Greg Murphy on piano, Joris Teepe on bass, with the addition of a second saxophonist, Latitia Benjamin, on alto.

The set consisted of two deliriously fast numbers: “Skane’s Refrain,” which seemed inspired by “Impressions,” and “Liberia,” Coltrane’s own modal reduction of “A Night in Tunisia.” Separating the two was a ballad, Mr. Teepe’s very pretty “Almost Lucky,” which gave everyone a chance to cool down. Overall, this lineup plays very attractive outdoor jazz concert music — mostly modal, with occasional free-jazz excursions, particularly in Mr. Clark’s tenor solos, which utilize squeaks and honks as a kind of stagecraft. Likewise, Ms. Benjamin’s tone seemed slightly out of tune (in the manner of the late Jackie McLean), but she clearly knows how to ignite a festival crowd and drew wild applause for every solo.

For her set, Ms. Rubin started unpromisingly with a waltz called “Music Makes the World Go Round,” which triggered my personal bias against songs about jazz; the lyrics rather obviously proselytize for the jazz cause and consist mostly of canonical name-dropping. Yet Ms. Rubin then demonstrated why it’s better to sing the music of the great jazz icons rather than merely sing their praises. The high point of her 45-minute slot was an inspired trilogy of songs by her fellow Clevelander, the vital modern jazz composer Tadd Dameron, including his most famous ballad, “If You Could See Me Now” (sung with the verse), and the less often sung “Never Been in Love” and “On a Misty Night.” Her singing here was subtle and knowing, totally straight-ahead, with emphasis on storytelling and expressing emotions without a lot of special effects. I’d never been ecstatic about Ms. Rubin’s work before, but this set-within-a-set made me eager to hear a whole program of Dameronia.

Ms. Rubin also had the class to acknowledge Barry Harris, one of the last remaining links to the bebop era. On Saturday, the sagacious 78-year-old pianist closed the afternoon with what began as a genuine tribute to Charlie Parker and ended like a Bird-inspired variety show. He brought out his familiar trio, with the bassist Ray Drummond and drummer Leroy Williams, plus the alto saxophonist Charles McPherson, a familiar Parker deputy who is always willing and able to step into Bird’s shoes. Mr. McPherson was billed as a special guest but took center stage for the first part of the set, with “Scrapple From the Apple,” “Parker’s Mood,” and “Cherokee.” He played excellently, as always, with a sweet, Parker-esque tone, while Mr. Harris’s finest moment was a spaced out, Monk-ish blues solo on “Mood,” with a side nod to Monk’s own blues, “Misterioso.”

Then the Barry Harris Singers (for lack of a better moniker), an ensemble of his students, took the stage and launched into a smooth choral reading of “Embraceable You,” on which the combination of choir and jazz piano evoked “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” The vocal soloist, surprisingly, turned out to be Mr. Harris himself, crooning what was apparently a King Pleasure-style vocalized lyric to Parker’s classic 1947 solo on the Gershwin standard. The singers followed with a choral version of J.J. Johnson’s blues “Wee Dot,” which was further enlivened by a pair of dancers, David Gilmore and Tina Pratt, who were long in the tooth but light on their feet. The performance wound up with a generic bossa nova in which Mr. Harris encouraged audience participation, as if he were Bobby McFerrin’s grandfather. I’d have preferred a few hard-core trio numbers, but I can’t say it wasn’t entertaining.

It was also a pleasure to attend a concert event where no one minded if cell phones rang out, babies cried, and dogs barked. One member of the choir in a big hat was even carrying a Pomeranian, and a terrier next to me yelped his approval. I know, because I once had a dog who would express his misgivings whenever I practiced my saxophone, and this little guy was clearly doing just the opposite.

wfriedwald@nysun.com