We are R.E.M. and this is what we do

His voice goes straight to my chill bone. Stipe sinks to his knees at the edge of the stage, clasping his microphone. Something in his timbre that is just right. Something in its rasp gives me the shivers. It starts at the bottom of my spine and ends at the tips of my fingers.

"Fah-yiiiiiire!"

It's not during a little known B-side, or one of their eerie ballads. It's right in the middle of one of their hits, "The One I Love". 16 years since its release they play it like it's the first time or the last.

R.E.M. have never overplayed a country, have never worn out their songs. They sound as fresh and as eager as they did when I first saw them back in 1987, not too far from tonight's Tivoli club -- the last time they played this country properly. (We don't count festival appearances, no matter how beautiful they are.)

While the band break the ice on stage, their crew congregates at the bar. Shaking hands, raising glasses, creating a unholy din that doesn't quiet down until R.E.M. start playing the first 'hit single'. 15 songs into the set 'Losing My Religion' starts and everybody looks up and cheers, then goes back to their yap yap yap.

The amps blow -- overheated, the gadgetry powering the speakers self-ejects during Maps and Legends. The band's soundman -- who we've dubbed 'not!Joe' *) -- loses his religion (groan), while the rest of the crew quickly find a fan to cool down the machinery.

The band play on regardless. Day one of the world tour and they've got their repertoire down pat. They've rehearsed an unbelievable 120 songs from their rich back catalogue. Older tunes sit nicely next to newer material as well as two new songs: "Bad Day" and "Animal", both of which sound jingly jangly and as yet unremarkable.

But the 30-something audience is hanging from the rafters, in a nice and quiet 30-something way. While outsiders might find this Dutch crowd subdued, connaisseurs know they're calm because they are listening. They're in it for the details and eagerly jump up to grasp the balled up lyrics sheets Stipe tosses into the crowd.

There are smiles all around, Stipe beams when he checks out Mills singing backing vocals. He swigs "Dutch" wine from a plastic cup and wonders out loud why he doesn't get a real glass. Behind me one smart ass mumbles: "Whatever you do, keep it away from Buck." The guitarist looks fitter than ever, relishing his job and jumping up and down like... like Peter Buck. Stipe's manic shuffle is more gainly, inimitable, strangely sexy and endearing.

The next day everything is bigger, wider in the coffin that is the Heineken Music Hall. Purpose built for gigs it has no history and no atmosphere of its own. It takes 3/4 of the duration of the show for the audience to warm up, literally.

I feel a little detached, away from the front rows, standing behind the sound desk to get a better overall view. I take in the light show, the golden glitter of the backdrops, summer in the city, royal blue and purple haze.

"Country Feedback" brings me back -- Stipe's 'favourite song we recorded' and one of mine. I sing along, without a voice, unheard, unseen, in the back, behind the desk, with an MD hanging from my belt and a heart lined with empathy:

You come to me with a bone in your hand
You come to me with your hair curled tight
You come to me with positions
You come to me with excuses
Ducked out in a row
You wear me out
You wear me out

Then we're nearing the end of the gig. Walk Unafraid, Everybody Hurts, People have the Power. With a pocket full of wisdom I make my way home.

Blissed out, worn out.

Up.