If there was ever a rocker who could make aging cool, it’s Neil Young. Even in his youth, the shape-shifting troubadour seemed to exude a well-traveled wisdom, second only to that of Bob Dylan in its prophases. After decades spent timelessly cultivating a body of work as diverse as it is sprawling, Young is of a distinct class of rock icons who have managed to transcend the trends of every generation he’s written for. Whether he’s savagely assaulting the fretboard of his Gretch Duo Jet — his stringy grey hair bouncing in magnificent disarray upon a glistening, furrowed forehead — while being backed by the cathartically cacophonous Crazy Horse, or solitarily perched on a stool singing the story of America (by way of Canada) with vulnerable vibrato, the 64-year-old Young is increasingly coming into focus as the old man he saw as his mirror on the 1972 classic of the same name. This week at the Ryman, Young will treat fans to a two-night stand of the solitary — with a pin-drop solo acoustic performance of folk favorites. Ticket prices are steep ($92 -$127, to be exact) but the payoff of experiencing his spellbinding serenade in all its captivating geriatric glory is priceless.