When REM played in Brixton last June, I went home feeling mildly underwhelmed. But all the reviews were ecstatic, so obviously it was just me (with a little help from the indifferent sound mix, the eccentric choice of material and the funereal vibe of Brixton Academy). Back in town for this 45-minute lunchtime show, however, the band seemed focused and energised.

Opening with a ferociously punky Bad Day, one of two new pieces on the album, they blasted through a 10-song set as if they had suddenly rediscovered a forgotten pocket of the chaotic vigour that fired them up back in the early 1980s, when packed and sweaty clubs like this one were their habitat.

Michael Stipe has long since abandoned the mystical Appalachian-style moaning with which he used to mangle his lyrics, and he has also mastered the fine art of controlling a performance. He urged the crowd to give his croaky throat a helping hand on the high notes of Imitation of Life, so they obliged by bawling out the "C'mon, c'mon" bits.

During a plaintive and shimmering treatment of Man on the Moon, Stipe extended a healing hand over the front rows to conduct them through the "Yeah, yeahs". A brief anecdote about oversleeping prefaced an invigorating charge through Get Up.

Having a catalogue stretching back 20-odd years means they have plenty of rabbits to pull out of the hat, and the nicest surprise here was a perfectly paced reappraisal of World Leader Pretend ("We love this song," Stipe explained). But equally gratifying was the other new song, Animal, a powerful drone of sound riding on Peter Buck's Ticket to Ride-style guitar figure. Short sets at lunchtime with plentiful supplies of beer? Why did nobody think of this before?