On the second and third nights of Hard Rock Calling in London last weekend, 24 hours after they had each headlined at Glastonbury, two rock veterans shook off their advancing years and reminded 50,000 fans just how visceral, cathartic and celebratory live music can be. Neil Young, 63, turned in one of his greatest performances of recent times in a two-hour-plus set. Bruce Springsteen, a mere 59, bestrode the stage for more than three hours. Randy Phillips, the promoter of Michael Jackson’s doomed London dates, who in May gushed about the king of pop, “I’d trade my body for his tomorrow”, might have been on safer ground booking these two. The years fell away as the different sections of their back catalogues blurred into one, mirroring the cross-generational unity that defined the audience.

Young, who can be a cussedly noncommunicative live artist when he wants to be, was on blistering form on Down by the River, Words, Mansion on the Hill, Spirit Road and The Needle and the Damage Done. After a beautiful Heart of Gold, he asked knowingly, “Do you want another of those?”, before breaking into Old Man and sparking an unlikely mass sing-along. Squalls of electric guitar, songs that seemed never to end, and Young often grinning at the centre of it all: this was not what some of his shows (never mind albums) had led many to expect. Cinnamon Girl sounded as if it had been written the day before. Contrast this with Bob Dylan’s recent Roundhouse show, where classics were torn apart or made unrecognisable to little obvious benefit, and the great man barely acknowledged the crowd. Young grabbed his heritage by the neck and ignited it with sonic fire and brimstone. As if that weren’t excitement enough, his encore of the Beatles’ A Day in the Life saw the sudden arrival on stage of Paul McCartney.

The Boss has always been a full-on performer, but the showman in him has now reached such proportions that he might more accurately be described as an entertainer. And entertain he did. Opening with the Clash’s London Calling was poignant, redemptive, overwhelming and slightly cheesy, a set of adjectives that pretty much sums up Springsteen. Lulls, excessive grandstanding and longueurs belonged in the fromage section, but heartbreaking renditions of Racing in the Street, Jungleland, Outlaw Pete and The Rising reconnected us with the passion and empathy that exist in so much of his music, and Trapped, Radio Nowhere and the closing Dancing in the Dark simply smashed any misgivings to smithereens. Two nights, two gigs, two old-timers (three, counting Macca): live music has seldom seemed so life-affirming or sounded so young.

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