Those charming men: Peter Buck, Johnny Marr, and the rest of R. E. M. ring ’80s chimes.

Yes They Can

Or: How Michael Stipe learned to stop worrying and love his band BY JOSH MODELL

Michael Stipe has good reason to smile. Admittedly, the band he’s led for more than a quarter-century has spent the past decade losing focus and credibility, and the last few years have been especially dispiriting, with 2004’s Around the Sun roundly derided—even by its creators. Add to that an entrenched government that had to make a politically minded artist feel as if he were shouting into a void. But here stands Stipe, beaming in front of some 15,000 people at Chicago’s United Center: His group has released their best album in 15 years (Accelerate),

they’ve assembled the coolest arena bill of the summer, and a presidential candidate for whom he’s been exuberantly stumping just locked up the Democratic nomination.

R.E.M. brought along a couple of like-minded bands to help celebrate (and, let’s be honest, maybe boost ticket sales). Modest Mouse are already following the headliner’s slow-and-steady career path, and the National eloquently touch the personal/political nerves that Stipe has always addressed. It’s easy to imagine the R.E.M. frontman soaking in the simmering gorgeousness of “Fake Empire” or the rollicking “Mr. November,” extrapolating their lyrics to suit his current political mood.

(“‘Mr. November’ is Barack Obama!” he might squeal with delight, if such an outburst were in his repertoire. Which it’s not.)

Surprisingly, the National don’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by the finding-their-seats slot at the cavernous arena, a.k.a. the house

that Michael Jordan built. Their excellent records require intimate attention, but live, their rockers—particularly “Squalor Victoria”—demand it. Lanky, black-clad singer Matt Berninger wouldn’t know whether the seats were empty or full: He sings with his eyes closed, all the better to find the dark, beautiful corners of his lyrics, which are suffused with subtle, witty musings on loneliness, modern-world confusion, drunkenness, and romance.

Subtlety isn’t really part of the equation for Modest