As the curtain-raiser for the over-a-century-old building, Dylan was an appropriate choice, a venerable institution in his own right, a living legend only 33 years younger than the building itself, but still out there raising a ruckus and making mischief on his Never Ending Tour. For decades, he’s been a divisive performer. He rearranges his most familiar songs — my seatmate did not recognize the somewhat countrified, fiddle-featured “Blowin‘ in the Wind” — and his voice is often froggy and never pretty. (He also is still engaged with the endless process of rewriting his own lyrics. A tough, punchy “Gotta Serve Somebody” included this freshly snarky couplet: “You may be on painkillers, you may be medicated / You may be simple-minded, it might be unrelated.” )