Then there was the subject matter, with Young favoring material that at least touches on the passing of time or feeling a touch of alienation from other generations or one’s own.
It was cross-canyon Opposite Day in nearly every regard, starting with a small audience that sat mostly in rapt silence (aside from the yahoo prone to shouting “Keep goin’, Neil!,” as if Young’s laconic stage presence suggested someone in need of a pep talk). If anything, maybe the fleeting ambient sounds served a small purpose in setting up a not-so-ironic contrast with what was happening here on the other side of the tracks, as it were. These occasional faint outbursts weren’t too bothersome, truth be told, and did not go a very long way toward interrupting the magic unfolding inside the Bowl’s much tinier, 103-year-old cousin.
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