One is a newcomer who was bussing dishes in a restaurant a few months ago and will release his retro-flavored debut album in late June. The other is a young-ish New York City cabaret veteran who often looks backward for musical inspiration.

In separate shows Sunday night in downtown Minneapolis, Leon Bridges and Nellie McKay proved that old can be new again – or at least fresh.

Bridges, 25, did a quick 35-minute set opening for Lord Huron at sold-out First Avenue. He proved to be an assertive but smooth soul singer, with a voice that recalls Sam Cooke's. His tunes, drawn from his June 23 debut "Coming Home," had a late 1950s/early 1960s vibe, part doo-wop soul , part blues-abilly and part gospel-tinged soul.

Bridges, who is from Fort Worth, Texas, seemed old-fashioned in sound (loved the echo on his voice) , lyrical content (very PG love songs with lines like "where it's warm in my arms") and look (dapper peacock blue suit with black lapels). Yet, he still seemed fresh – because of his youth, passion and ability to connect with the crowd of mostly 20-somethings.

A couple blocks away, McKay, 33, a regular at the Dakota Jazz Club and on "A Prairie Home Companion," was promoting her sixth and latest album, "My Weekly Reader," at the Dakota. The title is typical cheeky McKay as she revisits 1960s songs of psychedelia and protest. And, of course, she makes listeners -- the Dakota audience was mostly baby boomers -- rethink the meaning of the lyrics.

Despite the indignities experienced by the protagonist in "Red Rubber Ball" and "Sunny Afternoon," there was a sunny-ness to McKay's demeanor that provided a ray of hope. Her "Itchychoo Park" was showered in irony, stripped of its druggy-ness with her playful piano fills.

McKay likes to disarm listeners with her tricks and ticks. That strategy was especially effective on the political pieces. On the hipster jazz classic "Compared to What," she proved her piano chops, ending with a showy glissando. She updated Country Joe McDonald's 1960s protest chant (made famous at Woodstock) to be about Iran, not Vietnam, and added the kicker "whoopee, we're all gonna die."

Although she was less talkative between songs than in some past performances (she seemed preoccupied with reading her set list while the crowd clapped), McKay played a generous 85-minute set (her second of the night).

She offered a couple of standards and several of her originals, including the fairly straightforward Laura Nyro-ish "Cupcake" and the rollicking sendup of feminism, "Mother of Pearl," She also did a couple of her world-music romps including "Bodega."

Her originals can be intensely intellectual, pointedly political, wittily humorous, full of feigned naivety and marked by deep and diverse musicality. McKay is hard to categorize musically or to explain in a simple, declarative sentence.

Dressed in a kimono-like outfit with a head full of Dylanesque curls, the pianist/ukulele player did speaking impressions of Bob Dylan, Garrison Keillor and Madeleine Peyroux (who is playing at the Dakota later this week). She told jokes about Michelle Bachmann, Ralph Nader and Hillary Clinton. When she asked people to sing a call and response with her, she started with "heidi-heidi-ho" and ended up with gibberish (which the crowd repeated/imitated).

One song perfectly encapsulated the tone and theme of the show as well as the personality of the performer: the Doors' "People Are Strange." "No one remembers your name when you're strange," she sang with none of the darkness of Jim Morrison and then concluded with a strange little jazz run on the piano and a warped smile.

Yes, Nellie McKay is strange – delightfully so.