Saturday headliner Neil Young delivers a lukewarm performance

Seeing your icons can be a bittersweet experience. With the weight of expectation going head-to-head with a career-spanning canon, there's always a margin for disappointment. In short, you're rarely going to hear every song you'd like to. So, The Bad News: anyone holding their breath for a Neil Young greatest hits set tonight will soon realise they’re in the wrong field.

One thing that there's no shortage of is atmosphere. True to his name, at 63 Young still seems an eternal teenager, rocking out full-pelt in his bedroom. For half the set his shirt hangs off his back like a careless magician's cape, while the stage is scattered with instruments and curiosities ranging from Native American sculptures to a quirky red telephone perched next to the drum kit. Through the course of the show an artist lurks at the back of the stage, putting paint to canvas in response to the music.

Opening with a thunderous 'Hey Hey, My My', it initially feels like this is destined to be the gig of a lifetime. Yet the songs that follow make this a premature promise, at least in the first half, flipping back and forth between early and more recent material in a way that is somehow workmanlike and unlovable.

When they do arrive, the highs are irresistible. A graceful rendition of 'The Needle and the Damage Done' halfway through sends a blissful shockwave rippling through the crowd, and when Young plays 'Heart of Gold' a few songs later it's truly stunning. Following this with 'Old Man' is little short of a perfect combo, generating mass singalongs and spreading a truly uplifting vibe across the park. They're far and away the best songs he plays tonight.

On the other side of the coin, Young's penchant for tinkering with his own work backfires on him in spectacular fashion. 'Down By The River' has always been a master class in guitar-jam improvising, clocking in at an already testing 9 minutes on record. Played live it really suffers, being dragged out to what seems an interminable length while Young ceaselessly widdles on his guitar. An entrancing song is diluted to the point where it becomes trying and sludgy, taken to task by self-indulgence. 'Rockin in the Free World' fares even worse, the chorus being repeated so many times it becomes painfully asinine.

While some true gems from Young's back catalogue receive a healthy degree of exposure, there are some undeniable, crippling gaps in the set list. The absences of 'Like a Hurricane' and the seminal 'Powderfinger' are probably the most painful to swallow. But, to focus on what is played tonight, in truth it's something of a mixed bag, veering between the exquisite and the excruciatingly banal.

A special mention has to go to the encore, a majestic cover of The Beatles' 'A Day in the Life'. Halfway through the song one legend is joined on stage by another, as Paul McCartney himself pops out of the woodwork to join in. Sharing a mic, Young's walrus-like visage makes a strange contrast to the sprightly Macca, who more than ever resembles an excited barn owl that's just landed on stage.

It's a testament to Young's brilliance that he's still as absorbed in his music as ever, passionately uncompromising in a manner most elder musical statesmen simply can't muster. Unfortunately, however, this comes at a price, as some truly excellent songs get butchered in the name of experimentalism. Despite some spellbinding moments, the lasting impression Young leaves tonight is disappointingly lukewarm.

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