Still, one wonders if he hasn't gone too far this time.
His rules bring to mind a penniless high school teacher.
Not only that you have to put your phone in a silly bag that only the staff can unlock.
If you arrive too late, you have to wait nicely outside until Dylan pleases to let you in.
But he's no diva either.
Eight o'clock strikes and without warning he and the band are suddenly up and running.
We have barely had time to see who is sitting behind the piano on the dark stage - let alone hear.
The voice is undeniably 81 years old and so raspy that for a long time it is difficult to be sure which song he is singing.
One must do everything not to give in to the desire to clear his throat in his place.
But even if it takes three songs for Dylan to clear his throat and really get going, tonight's concert is proof that the voice, which has always been considered his weakness, is on the contrary his very best instrument.
Sometimes it is strong, sometimes fragile.
Sometimes almost eerie, but never blasé or indulgent.
We get to hear all but one song
from the latest album Rough and rowdy ways – a dark but fun journey through history, musical heritage and literature with death always waiting around the corner.
Stories that only his ghostly old man voice can tell.
Musically, the album is incredibly out of date, but live the blues comes into its own.
The band is so tight that the jamming could have gone on for weeks.
The steel guitar is beautiful like a harp, the drums beautiful like rain.
It's best in the longest songs, like "Key West (Philosopher pirate)" when they reach an almost hypnotic interplay.
Bob Dylan never leaves his seat behind the piano.
He doesn't treat us to any Blowin' in the wind either and luckily, it would have caused the gig to lose its sharpness completely.
But then comes Every grain of sand, perhaps as a small concession anyway.
The harmonica is brought out for the first time and Dylan's voice is suddenly very clear and, indeed, beautiful.