Don’t look back: Bob Dylan live in Manchester

The words may be someone else's, but the sentiment just about nails it for many seasoned Dylan fans. For years now, the 74-year cast-iron American icon - dressed tonight in a black suit and white hat combo that would've made any self-respecting pre-war Country & Western star proud under seven huge movie-lot lights that infuse the proceedings with a sepia tinge and pretty much constitute the entire stage production - has been predictable only in his occasionally baffling unpredictability.

At times, when Dylan's pummeled much-loved classics into new shapes with all the finesse and care of a man chopping firewood and insisted on barking his way through tunes with a hoarse growl that makes Tom Waits resemble an angelic choirboy, the patience of the faithful has been sorely tested.

True to form, the nearest we get to the classic 60's Dylan sound tonight is the busker who's entertaining the departing masses with a note-perfect rendition of "The Times They Are A-Changing" outside the venue. Dylan doesn't go anywhere near a guitar, opting instead to alternate between a grand piano and a spot centre-stage behind three microphone stands, only one of which appears to be functional. "Blowin' In The Wind" pops up during the encores, but you wouldn't know it were it not for those iconic lyrics as the original melody has been largely discarded; this time, though, the radical reshaping as a fiddle-enriched country waltz is infused with audible affection.

It doesn't take long to figure out that Dylan has about as much interest in cosy nostalgia and crowd-pleasing as equally unfathomable contemporary Neil Young. The current Bob Dylan live show is a snapshot of where's he's at right now; a superbly sprightly "Tangled Up In Blue" aside, there are very few nods towards the huge swathes of Dylan's catalogue that predate 1997's glorious gloom-fest Time Out of Mind.

Tonight, however, none of that matters. Although by no means phoned-in, the first few selections come across as routine warm-up. This makes the sudden swap from the half-spoken, business-as-usual croak of "Beyond Here Lies Nothing" to the timeworn, beautifully phrased croon of "What'll I Do" - first of many selections from this year's kind-of Frank Sinatra tribute Shadows In The Night, a twilit triumph that forgoes the gloopy strings that usually coat this sort of thing like a particularly sickly layer of icing - all the more startling. Whether he's cut down on smoking, employed a singing coach or practised voodoo, Dylan's regained command of his voice - a weary, weather-beaten version of it, but one that's a perfect fit for the end-of-times vibes and romantic disillusionment that populate the original and borrowed material tonight.

From there on, the quality rarely slips, although the melody-dodging car crash of "Spirit on the Water" reminds you of Dylan's unrivalled capacity to strip his catalogue off its ample charms. Big chunk of the credit belongs to the superbly versatile five-piece band, who - Charlie Sexton's piercing guitar and multi-instrumentalist Donnie Herron's pedal steel to the fore - hop effortlessly between various pre-rock 'n' roll musical templates, from the souped-up country boogie of "Duquesne Whistle" and the spooky folk lament "Scarlet Town" to the Chicago Blues swagger of "Early Roman Kings", and basically infuse everything with a little bit more bite and verve than the studio cuts.

The real star, however, is Dylan's renowned ability to entertain the idea that melodies matter. The prospect of Dylan tackling the challenging tune of "Autumn Leaves" might fill you with dread, but tonight's take on the timeless set text of lost love is a goosebumb-inducing gem. Dylan's immeasurably mournful tones prove a perfect match to the song's sorrow, whilst the band's ghostly barn dance sway proves it's possible to render the by-now clichéd Great American Songbook fresh. At the opposite end of the emotional scale, the indignant, menacing "Pay In Blood" - straddling a raw, strutting stop/start groove - and the rueful yet spiky "Long And Wasted Years" (both highlights of 2012's Tempest) are delivered with an acidic sharpness.

Sometimes legends get a lavish reception simply for still being around. The standing ovation that Dylan and co. receive at the end of tonight's two hour show, however, is entirely deserved. "I ain't done yet, my bell still rings," Dylan brags during "Early Roman Kings". It's no empty boast.