Bob Dylan has always toyed with audiences. He plays what he wants, how he wants, letting his mood dictate tempo and often key (sometimes switching songs to the minor). On Dylan’s return to London for the first time in five years, he summed it up early. ‘I ain’t no false prophet/ I just know what I know,’ he gruffly sang. Dylan spent the night at the Palladium doing what he knows best, singing songs of love, loss and immortality.

Covid temporarily ended his ‘Never-Ending Tour’, which had seen Dylan play more than 3,000 shows since 1988. Now it’s billed as ‘The Rough and Rowdy Ways Tour’, with the strapline: ‘Things aren’t what they were’. At the West End theatre they weren’t: Dylan, 81, mostly performed songs from his 2020 album Rough and Rowdy Ways (only the 17-minute long ‘Murder Most Foul’ was missing).

On that ‘Never-Ending Tour’, Dylan played piano side-on. Now, however, he stood at the piano in the middle of the dimly lit stage, with his trademark curls bobbling in silhouette. Following some loose jazz chords, the band kicked into a Chicago-blues version of ‘Watching the River Flow’, and applause erupted when the first line came: ‘What’s the matter with me/ I don’t have much to say.’

Dylan had more to say to the audience than he’s done for years. There were several ‘thank you’s and three times he walked out from behind the piano to pose in the middle of the stage in his black cowboy suit.

‘Key West’ was the stand-out number, beautifully scaled back with a slower and bluesier tempo than on the album. The band daintily grooved around him, allowing Dylan to slot in tenderly like an old crooner. ‘If you’re looking for immortality/ stay on the road, follow the highway sign,’ he sang. Dylan’s voice was silkiest on the Rough and Rowdy Ways numbers. ‘I Contain Multitudes’ had a sense of folky menace, with Dylan stretching his words to squeeze out the nuance of every threat: ‘I’ll sell you down the river, I’ll put a price on your head/ What more can I tell you? I sleep with life and death in the same bed.’ Elsewhere he sounded gruffer, particularly on ‘Gotta Serve Somebody’.

There were some older songs: ‘Most Likely You’ll Go Your Way (And I’ll Go Mine)’ was excellent as a limber blues with Dylan teasingly delaying the final words of the chorus, and ‘I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight’ was interestingly pared back as a barrelhouse jazz number.

Dylan played piano throughout. At times it was expressive; occasionally staccato. Guitarist Doug Lancio watched him closely; Dylan is notorious for going off piste. The rhythm was kept tight by Tony Garnier on bass (he’s played with Dylan for three decades) and Charley Drayton on drums, a recent, inspired addition to the band. Donnie Herron switched between steel guitar, mandolin and violin. His melodic fiddle-playing beautifully kick-started a blues shuffle version of ‘When I Paint My Masterpiece’.

The show ended with ‘Every Grain of Sand’, reshaped into a jazzy waltz. Dylan soloed on harmonica for the first time to the audience’s delight. And that was it: no encore. Dylan shuffled centre stage for a standing ovation. There weren’t any greatest hits; no ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ or ‘All Along the Watchtower’. But watching Dylan in his ninth decade was special enough.