Opening this revue of US country’s biggest names on Friday, eminently likable Arkansas rising star Ashley McBryde delivers a set that gets full house at country-music bingo – dive bars, peach cobbler, countless bonfires and beloved denim – but her voice is gravelled and potent enough to hold up the cliches. In contrast, Texan icon Lyle Lovett wields a sharp, wry brand of humour. With his sharp-suited eight-piece band, he conducts a masterclass from a 40-year discography, and surreal classics such as If I Had a Boat demand a hushed attentiveness from the Hydro. When he cedes the stage to legendary vocalist Francine Reed, she sparks total uproar.
The cowboy-booted crowd have waited feverishly for chart dominator Chris Stapleton, and “The Outlaw” cuts an enigmatic figure – a Stetson-wearing silhouette under a single spotlight. He blazes with intensity, lost in the darkness of singles such as Nobody to Blame. Long pauses between songs kill the momentum, but his vivid, raw vocals are transfixing and he finally leads a blissful, swaying arena through his mega-hit cover of Tennessee Whiskey.
Saturday’s quality is inconsistent. Chase Rice’s self-proclaimed “sexual rock” involves eye-wateringly graphic overtures to a woman he’s pulled on stage – it falls flat and rightly so. Brett Eldredge bounds at the audience like a labrador that’s been locked inside for a week, and breathless, empty tracks such as Somethin’ I’m Good At feed a feelgood, goofy persona. His debut single Raymond, a soft acoustic story about Alzheimer’s, proves his range.
As buoyant as her curls, Cam is a relief. She melts the room with soft-spoken stories of female desire from a red leather couch placed centre stage, and her heart-wrenching single Diane sits easily alongside radiant covers of Miley’s Nothing Breaks Like a Heart and Dolly’s Jolene.
Headliner Keith Urban has little to prove, but you wouldn’t know it to watch him; he’s an expert host and his eagerness to please is mirrored by an enchanted audience. Such is his enthusiasm that even clanger lyrics such as “blue looks good on the sky” are totally convincing, and he runs out to the crowd to give away a signed guitar before racing back to barrel through Wasted Time under a storm of confetti. Urban makes every punter feel as if they’re on the front row, and that’s a generous talent. KH
After two days of carousing, fans and artists could be forgiven for feeling a little fragile come Sunday. Yet glam siren Carly Pearce and courteous cowboy Dustin Lynch spend much of their early-bird sets preaching a hair-of-the-dog approach. Pearce receives a lusty cheer when she pops the cork on her sultry hit Hide the Wine before Lynch challenges the entire audience to chug their drinks during a boisterous cover of Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks.
Hunter Hayes prefers dazzling white sneakers to cowboy boots and his barrage of rootsy rock-outs seems more influenced by Kravitz than Cash, but his earnestness is appealing. Most fans, though, are here for singers Hillary Scott, Charles Kelley and guitarist Dave Haywood, AKA Lady Antebellum, the slick US country megastars starting to make serious headway in the UK. Rambunctious hits like I Run to You and Lookin’ for a Good Time sound custom-built for both roadhouse dancefloors and spiced rum commercials, but when the trio belatedly strip things back to just their harmonised voices it truly feels like the spirit of Nashville has come to Glasgow. GV
