Like the Good Lord, Carnegie Hall giveth, and Carnegie Hall taketh away. The Hall’s two most promising events of the month were Michael Feinstein’s “Standard Time” concert and Chick Corea’s co-starring bill with Bobby McFerrin as part of the vocalist’s Perspectives series. Unfortunately, both shows were scheduled for the same night (Wednesday), with Mr. Feinstein at Zankel Hall, and Messrs. Corea and McFerrin in the main room, Isaac Stern Auditorium. At first, I was frustrated and even angered at Carnegie’s decision to book these two events at the same time. The last time I heard Mr. Corea, he was playing Richard Rodgers and other “Songbook” composers, so it seemed somewhat illogical to assume that two highly venerated musicians drawing from the same repertoire would draw different audiences.

Since the Feinstein event started at 7:30 p.m. and the Corea concert began a half hour later, it was possible for me to catch about 75% of each show. As it turned out, they were less similar than I had hoped: Mr. Feinstein’s show was carefully organized, fast-moving, and well done. The Corea-McFerrin event was a long, rambling mess, but one with more than occasional moments of brilliance.

As always, Mr. Feinstein’s ASCAP-sponsored “Standard Time” shows are models of “infotainment,” well-balanced fusions of song and backstory, history and humor. This entry, devoted to the lyrics of the major Hollywood (and, later Broadway) songwriter Leo Robin, co-starred the cabaret diva K.T. Sullivan and the contemporary lyricist (and Robin protégé) Alan Bergman, who, between the pair of them, covered most of the major numbers from “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”

The most surprising guest was the violin prodigy Aaron Weinstein, who referenced Jack Benny’s legacy with “Love in Bloom.” The host’s own most touching moment was a medley of Robin’s most and least famous songs: the copacetically motivated “My Ideal,” and his last and least-known work, the almost mystical “I’m Just a Fool With a Fantasy.”

Zooming upstairs and around the corner, I reached Isaac Stern Auditorium at about 8:40 p.m., and encountered a strange sight: Patrons who had arrived right after starting time were still standing in the back, because the ushers were waiting for the first number to end before seating them. Finally, as the clock approached 9 p.m., we were at last led to our respective seats.

The performance, it turned out, was a 100-minute free-form improvisation for a trio consisting of Mr. Corea on piano, Jack DeJohnette on drums, and Mr. Bobby McFerrin doing whatever it is that he does — vocals, sound effects, spontaneous inventions of every kind that can be created using the human instrument. As the title of his 2002 album, “Beyond Words,” indicates, Mr. McFerrin has spent a great deal of his career demonstrating that lyrics are not a necessary part of singing. On this evening, he seemed to be taking it a step further, saying that creative musicians need not be dependent on pre-written melodies of any kind, either.

At times, this was pure free jazz of the kind Mr. Corea used to play in his avant-garde days (particularly with the valuable quartet Circle). At other points, the threesome settled into randomly discovered but mutually agreed-upon familiar patterns of chord changes — there was at least one section based on the blues, for instance. Mr. McFerrin likes to spend a lot of time interacting with the audience, leading it as an ad-lib choir; the effect is playful and charming, but only in very short doses. Had I wanted to hear myself sing, I would have stayed home.

The most entertaining moments occurred when the trio went out of its way to actually be entertaining: At one point, Mr. DeJohnette began poking at an electronic sampling device that made a boingy sound, like a jew harp, which Mr. McFerrin took as a cue to start mumbling improvised country-western lyrics, rather like a hillbilly Clark Terry. Later, Mr. McFerrin joined Mr. Corea at the concert grand, and they improvised a four-handed piano duet. Mr. Corea even whipped out a set of drumsticks at several instances, and began using found objects, including the piano and the monitors, as percussion instruments. During one of these interludes, Messrs. Corea and McFerrin huddled behind Mr. DeJohnette’s enormous trap kit and began mimicking clockwork automatons, à la the classic Sid Caesar “Your Show of Shows” sketch.

After the main event was finished, the crowd called the three musicians back, and they encored with “Blue Monk.” I would have preferred it the other way around — if they had built most of the concert using music with some kind of melodic starting point and followed that with a free-form piece as an encore. The hall was packed, but in the second hour, especially, I have never seen such a continual migration toward the exit. Still, those who remained were more than enthusiastic enough to compensate for the departed, cheering and whistling at every motion. This was a performance that necessitated audience participation, even when Mr. McFerrin wasn’t specifically choreographing it.

wfriedwald@nysun.com