Rather troublingly, I have managed to live my entire 26 years on this Earth without ever seeing Bob Dylan live, despite having found enormous inspiration in his music. Of all the artists I’d desire to see as much as Dylan, the rest of them have long since passed. So, when I saw his co-headlining tour with Elvis Costello was coming to Albany, I decided to head north for the evening to fulfill a couple of ambitions. I was particularly taken with the idea of seeing the two singular artists share a bill, as both make timeless music, and both have taken on new relevance for each subsequent generation. In this respect I was not disappointed.

Elvis Costello took the stage first, armed with just an acoustic guitar, and easily commandeered the 7000-person audience. Showcasing perfectly preserved vocals, and his trademark stark yet heavy-handed (in the best sense) guitar work, his songs are as powerful today as ever. Throw in his eloquent satire between songs, and there couldn’t have been a better prelude to Dylan.

Costello began the set with “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes,” a song that started his recording career in 1977. Thirty years and almost as many albums later, Costello’s personal priorities may have changed, but the issues close to his heart are all too familiar. Now in his mid-50s, he lives in L.A. as a permanent U.S. resident, meaning he doesn’t get a vote (but, as he points out, he pays taxes). His infant twin sons, who turned 10 months old last Saturday night, are U.S. citizens, a fact that brings him a certain glee: “I quite like the sound of President Frank and Vice President Dexter.” He dined in the same L.A. restaurant as Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger last week, and he told us what he would have said if he had been able to get past the bodyguards: “You can never be president. But my son can.”

Love and politics have always been central to Costello’s music, and his performance showed that for all that has changed in his life and the world since his first release, much remains the same. Or, if you prefer: same song, different war. Though it was impressive to hear the classics “Veronica” and “Blue Chair,” it was songs like “Oliver’s Army,” “The River in Reverse,” and “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love & Understanding?” that spoke directly to our current state of affairs. It is as much his delivery as his songs that makes Costello consistently relevant; his performance is so rousing and his witty stage banter so sharp and articulate that his form of political protest comes across as persuasive and contemporary, not merely angry.

Costello played two new songs, “Sulphur to Sugar Cane” and the closer, “The Scarlet Tide,” both of which he co-wrote with T-Bone Burnett. The latter, which was sung by Alison Krauss for the Cold Mountain soundtrack, tells the story of a woman left a widow by war, who feels that questioning her country is the act of a traitor. “I would call that the act of a patriot,” Costello argued.

Though Costello’s political tone was welcomed by the crowd, the moments when he paid homage to his peers were among the most memorable. In addition to including a fragment of John Lennon’s “I Don’t Wanna Be a Soldier” during “Either Side of the Same Town,” the set’s crowning moment was easily “Radio Sweetheart,” the first song Costello ever recorded, which segued into a rendition of Van Morrison’s “Jackie Wilson Said (I’m in Heaven When You Smile).”

While Costello the Entertainer shone between songs, Dylan characteristically let his music do the talking, also delivering a spectacular show. He took to the stage dressed in a long black coat and black gaucho hat (which he later traded for a white version), his five-piece backing band adorned in crimson suits. He is still technically promoting Modern Times, and though he began the set with “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat,” he set the pace for the evening by transforming it into an almost unrecognizable blues and rockabilly number, in the same vein as the new album.

I’ve read and heard that Dylan performs better the closer he is to his Woodstock home, and seeing him live less than hour from there, I believe it. Adopting a wide-legged stance, he played electric guitar for the first three songs: after the opener came a countrified but fairly true version of “Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright” followed by “Watching the River Flow.” After that Dylan alternately growled and purred his way through “Ain’t Talkin,” “Rollin’ and Tumblin’,” “Things Have Changed,” and others, his gravelly voice backed by one of the best live bands on the road today. It’s easy to see why Dylan is the oldest artist in history to have debuted at #1 (with Modern Times): he is one cool cat. He prowled around his electric keyboard, he killed on his harmonica solos, and then pointedly brought us back to reality as he concluded with “Masters of War.”

Predictably, he didn’t interact with the audience, instead bringing the lights down between songs — presumably so we couldn’t steal his secret recipe. But when the band returned after a lengthy applause for the encore, he did finally break his silence to introduce the band and play “Thunder on the Mountain,” which I’d been anxiously awaiting all night. As the show ended with “All Along the Watchtower,” I was finally able to tear my gaze away and examine the crowd, which I happily noted contained a whole new generation of Dylan and Costello fans who could grow up to become anything. Maybe even President.

–Julia Clarke