On Tuesday night in the Juilliard School’s Peter Jay Sharp Theater, a really good idea came to fruition. In conjunction with the New York Festival of Song, the school presented a concert called “100 Years of Juilliard Composers in Song.” The Juilliard School is celebrating its centennial, you see. And a lot of composers have passed through there – either as students or teachers. It was the idea of the concert to feature 24 of these composers, in one song each.

Curating the program was Steven Blier, a New York apostle of vocal music. He is artistic director of the New York Festival of Song, and a faculty member at Juilliard. Along with Michael Barrett, he did the accompanying, and he also did the talking. Lots and lots of talking. In the main, he duplicated the (amazingly copious) program notes, and he lengthened the evening considerably. But Mr. Blier is such a talented and amusing talker, it was hard to blame him.

The songs were performed by 10 Juilliard students, in various combinations, although most of those performances were, of course, solo efforts.

In a program essay, Mr. Blier spoke of how difficult it was to select the composers for this concert – so many of them, so few spots (relatively). He had to make some painful cuts. I’m sure some of this was personal, for there are many living Juilliard composers, and they couldn’t all be showcased.

There was no Persichetti (a dead composer). Why? Because, as Mr. Blier explained, Vincent Persichetti’s songs really must be heard in groups, not singly, and that was unallowable. Also, Mr. Blier didn’t necessarily choose the best songs, by the best composers. In fact, I hold some of the songs we heard to be mediocre. He chose songs that he thought would make an interesting program – and they did.

In the course of two and half hours, we had a survey of song in the 20th century. (American song, almost exclusively.) And, as always with songfests, we had a survey of poetry – from all centuries! – too.

To open the program was “There Shall Be More Joy” by the littleknown Paul Nordoff. That was followed by “The Message,” by Rubin Goldmark – no, not that Goldmark, the composer of that violin concerto. That was Karl Goldmark; Rubin was his nephew. His song, redolent of the 19th-century drawing room, was sung by a female quartet, and carried us pleasantly away.

A little later, we heard – get this – a rollicking vaudeville-type song by Milton Babbitt, the famous and fearsome modernist. (He obviously contains multitudes, or at least another side.) Choreographing that song – “Now You See It” – was Jeanne Slater, and our two singers, Daniel Billings and Alex Mansoori, hoofed delightfully.Mr. Babbitt’s song was followed by a musical-theater number,”Take the Moment,” from “Do I Hear a Waltz?” – music by Richard Rodgers, words by Stephen Sondheim. The show might have been a flop, but the song is good.

And if I may take issue with the program notes: They said, “Perhaps Rodgers, with his music that hints at the Lydian mode, yearned to be taken seriously …” I doubt Rodgers “yearned” to be taken seriously, because a) he knew he was great, and b) anyone who doesn’t take him seriously hasn’t an ounce of musical sense, and should be shunned.

But I learned something highly interesting from those program notes: that Norman Dello Joio’s song “There is a Lady Sweet and Kind” was a recital favorite of the late Italian tenor Cesare Valletti. It must have been a pleasure to hear him sing it.

Also of interest on the first half of the program was “Uncle Joe’s Reel.” This is not a quick-footed tribute to Stalin – although that wouldn’t be a bad guess – but a cheery treatment by Celius Dougherty of a Scottish folk tune.

And on it went, through the night. We heard from Justine F. Chen, born in 1975 – she wrote a song to a wonderfully dirty poem by Dryden (“Whilst Alexis Lay Pressed”). William Harvey, born in 1982, wrote a song to a poem by Keats (“When I Have Fears …”).We heard a gorgeous song by Richard Danielpour, “A Quality Love,” from the opera “Margaret Garner” – it has a touch of “Danny Boy” in it.

Also represented were Robert Beaser and – maybe the most prolific songwriter of all – Ned Rorem. Both were on hand to wave to the audience. Not on hand, apparently, was John Corigliano, whose “Liebeslied” ended the printed program. This song contains just “three little words,” as Billy Mayhew said: “I love you.”

Mr. Blier selected two encores, with his typical wit. The first was one of the cleverest pieces Peter Schickele (doing business as P.D.Q. Bach) has ever written: the madrigal “My Bonnie Lass She Smelleth.” And the second was Meredith Willson’s “Seventy-six Trombones” from … well, you know what from.

As with any concert involving a bunch of students – as with most any concert involving a bunch of pros – performances were uneven. I will single out what was possibly the best: Jennifer Zetlan’s singing of David Del Tredici’s “Acrostic Song,” from “Final Alice. “This soprano was pure, unaffected, technically secure: professional.

What Mr. Blier’s concert proved – or confirmed – was that the world of song is rich, and fascinating, and comforting, and other good things. Even soso songs can be worth something. That first song we heard, Paul Nordoff’s “There Shall Be More Joy,” sets a poem by Ford Madox Ford, which includes the line “Not a bitter note in their song.” And so it was, on this Tuesday evening at Juilliard.