"My teeth look very clean on the cover of the Radio Times," announces Michael Stipe. It sounds like the sort of imponderable statement with which his lyrics used to be packed - in the early 1980s, Stipe was big on penning songs where people "crowded up to Lenin with their noses worn off" - but it is true. Stipe is on the cover of the Radio Times, his smile digitised to perfection. Inside, however, he angrily bemoans attitudes to middle-aged rock stars. REM's problem - if a band whose last album sold 3m copies can be said to have problems - has less to do with age than status. Recently, they have seemed trapped between their arty origins and the crowd-pleasing that made them superstars.
The 1998 album Up was self-consciously experimental; 2001's Reveal was a self-conscious attempt to win back mainstream fans. Perhaps they only strike the right balance live. Stadium bands downsizing into smaller venues rarely work. Arenas require bombastic performances that look daft in more intimate settings. REM, however, know exactly what they're doing. The opening chords of Get Up fill the venue with sound, but their songs are intricate and subtle: they don't seem bombastic, just incredibly powerful. They neither sniffily deny their back catalogue - you get Man on the Moon, Losing My Religion and a host of songs from 1985's Fables of the Reconstruction - nor offer a desperate greatest-hits set. It helps that their newest songs are so strong: Bad Day and Animal blast from the PA.
REM's backdrop features Tokyo at night, their faces picked out in green sequins, and an illuminated sign reading LUV. It is both mysterious and camp, which means Stipe blends right in. Live photographs always capture him throwing messianic shapes. They're missing all the fun. He captivates the audience without resorting to hackneyed rock-star posturing, telling rambling anecdotes about the Smiths and dancing gleefully. It is both eccentric and heartfelt. Glastonbury should be theirs for the taking.
· REM play Glastonbury festival tomorrow. Box office: 01934 843601.
