The composers of the Great American Songbook were hotly divided on the subject of jazz: Richard Rodgers and Jerome Kern hated the idea of soloists tearing through their melodies, whereas George Gershwin and Harold Arlen felt precisely the opposite, and were much inspired by jazz, blues, and Afro-American music in general. Cole Porter seems to have been somewhat neutral on the subject, but the man who wrote “Now You Has Jazz” for Louis Armstrong could hardly hate it. He once told Frank Sinatra that he didn’t mind a free interpretation of one of his tunes as long as the song itself was kept more or less intact.

I can only imagine that Porter would have enjoyed Wednesday’s concert at the 92nd Street Y, the second night in the Y’s Jazz in July series. In “Cole Porter: All Through the Night,” 18 of his songs were performed by two pianists (artistic director Bill Charlap and Ted Rosenthal), a singer (Sandy Stewart), a few instruments (guitarist Peter Bernstein and vibraphonist Joe Locke), and a rhythm section (bassist Sean Smith and drummer Lewis Nash). Also present were a proper Commander of the British Empire (Sir Richard Rodney Bennett) and, even more impressive, an NEA Jazz Master (the great tenor saxophonist Frank Wess).

The show was Mr. Charlap’s production; he hosted throughout and played on almost every number, starting with the title song. On “All Through the Night,” he began with a slow, dramatic intro before announcing the melody (and the bass and drums) with an Art Tatum flourish. One chorus was a series of short, almost random phrases that barely seemed to know one another; the next was one long breathless phrase that never seemed to let up. Demonstrating Porter’s penchant for short, riff-like bursts of melody, Mr. Charlap dove into a fast but still danceable “Dream Dancing,” breaking the tune down into motivic cells, yet keeping it recognizable.

Mr. Charlap also played what he introduced as a Bud Powell-inspired “Just One of Those Things” in “licketysplit” tempo. He was joined by Mr. Locke, whose mallets were flying so fast that they looked like helicopter blades; he was fully several feet off the ground when he finished. Not to be outdone, Mr. Charlap took his turn and played faster still, producing more notes than the U.S. Treasury.

To illustrate the versatility of Porter’s standards, Ms. Stewart then came out and sang a slow, bittersweet reading of the same song, which underscored the contradictory, ironic nature of the lyrics, which lionize a finished love affair while at the same time dismissing it. While Ms. Stewart was characteristically understated here, other songs saw her open up and belt, namely “All of You,” which had her getting as saucy as I have ever heard her, and “After You, Who?” in which she carefully indicated the punctuation so as to avoid reminding everyone of their favorite chocolate beverage.

Mr. Wess, who was dressed in a dapper all-white outfit that would have pleased the sartorial Porter, continues to play superbly. At 85, he has, understandably, slightly less wind power than he did when he was a star with Count Basie 50 years ago, but no shortage of rhythms; for most of the evening, he played in a laid-back, Lester Young-influenced approach. Like Mr. Charlap’s piano solos, Mr. Wess’s tenor statements had the audience continually marveling at Porter’s internal musical architecture.

The first half of the show ended with Mr. Rosenthal leading a quintet in an unusual arrangement of “I Get a Kick Out of You” in 7/4 time. “If you can dance to this, there’s something wrong with your feet,” Mr. Charlap announced. (I suspect they may have been cheating and playing it in alternating measures of 3/4 and 4/4 — ha!) I expected it to sound like one of Dave Brubeck’s timeout experiments, but the use of vibes and Latin polyrhythms made it feel instead like Cal Tjader’s “Soul Sauce.”

Later, Messrs. Rosenthal and Charlap essayed a four-handed treatment of “You’d Be So Easy To Love.” During the first chorus, they divided the melody almost note for note, like two divorce lawyers arguing over assets, and in the second, they went for baroque and played mostly together, contrapuntally. Joined by Mr. Locke and the rhythm section, they also essayed a samba treatment of “Night and Day,” in which the playfully competitive vibraphonist grabbed most of the action for himself.

Sir Richard, who may be the world’s only combination of classical composer, jazz pianist, and cabaret raconteur, opened the second half with three Porter songs, starting with a cool and dry delivery on “Miss Otis Regrets,” surely the most extreme excuse for missing a luncheon appointment that was ever concocted. The sagacious savant then began the comparatively scarce 1930 “Where Have You Been,” with its even rarer verse, and made us melancholy with “It’s All Right With Me.”

The evening concluded with Ms. Stewart and Mr. Wess co-featured on “Every Time We Say Goodbye,” and then the whole company on “Let’s Do It.” Ms. Stewart sang and everyone soloed, though sadly Sir Richard didn’t also get to sing a chorus here. It certainly helps make a point about Porter’s jazz sympathies that the bridge to “Let’s Do It” builds to what is essentially a syncopated break.

Anytime a musician or singer wants to do a Cole Porter song, it’s more than all right with me.

wfriedwald@nysun.com