In case you were having any doubts about the country bona fides of the soulless, hangar-like venue for this standout Celtic Connections event, Jim Lauderdale and his blue, floral, Nudie-inspired cowboy outfit should assuage your fears. With just his guitar and distinctive twang, he delivers a set heavy on name-dropping but with a lot of heart and an undeniable knack for a range of country styles. There’s a few bluegrass numbers and an ill-advised imitation of a pedal steel guitar, but in case you thought this was a simple exercise in nostalgia, there’s also a new song about the dangers of AI. Hearing Lauderdale’s voice make the most of a line like “is it real or deepfaaaaaake?” is worth the price of admission alone.

Many big names opt for the no-frills entrance, but the lack of ceremony for Emmylou Harris tonight is bordering on negligent. The house lights barely change and a large chunk of the audience are still milling around the peripheries by the time she’s halfway through ‘My Songbird’, a little quiet to start before catching the crowd’s attention. The band soon arrive and the collective are jiving by the time of ‘Orphan Girl’, a standout of the brilliant Wrecking Ball. Phil Madeira injects a sense of honky tonk to his piano playing which is one of the best recurring themes of the set.

Harris is renowned as an interpreter of the work of others, which naturally leads to a bit of name-dropping of her own, though this time it comes with a range of charming tales from her storied career. There’s Townes van Zandt in NYC ’68 and an opening slot for the Eagles, ‘stealing’ songs from Marty Stuart and expected, poignant recollections of Gram Parsons. Despite the glaring lack of intimacy in the Emirates Arena, Harris and the band do manage to conjure a connection, a sense of wistful joy tinged with a hint of sadness as it’s been suggested this will be her final European tour (she turns 79 in April, as she reminds us). The set list draws from a long list of legendary collaborators and friends, and Harris often seems in awe of her own good fortune in being able to spend the last (almost) 60 years doing what she loves.

Harris has never put much stock into the Americana label, and she expresses a sincere wish that there’s something in her music for a global audience (augmented by her fear that there’s a “little too much America First these days”). Her first interest was folk, and she shares that it was Parsons that got her into country, before dusting off a rare George Jones cover: ‘One of These Days’, yet another example of Harris’ unmatched skills of shining new light on others’ material.

The Red Dirt Boys are in fine fettle tonight; Eamon McLoughlin’s mandolin is bright and melodious and Madeira’s turns on accordion provide just the right spot between warm and melancholy. Kevin Key makes his debut on guitar (replacing usual axe-man Will Kimbrough) and gets to tackle the iconic solo on Buck Owens’ ‘Together Again’, and he joins Madeira and Harris for a stirring, near-a capella rendition of ‘Bright Morning Stars’.

The night is capped off by an encore of the grief-stricken ‘Boulder to Birmingham’ (a tribute to Parsons) and then a lively cover of Chuck Berry’s ‘You Never Can Tell.’ A little leftfield, but on an evening that had the potential to topple over into maudlin, it’s a welcome opportunity to give in to the power of a catchy riff and cut a rug in the aisles.