So maybe Michael Stipe looks like he’s about to keel over from malnutrition. That doesn’t mean that he and his cronies — collectively known as the rock deities R.E.M.— don’t have enough energy to put on a righteous, kick-ass live show. Lucky for Ames (the 113th stop on their Monster tour), the boys from Athens, Ga., acted like the show at Hilton last October was their first. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, no? Grant Lee Buffalo, a trio from Los Angeles, kicked things off right on time, which is a good argument for arriving late and skipping the opening band. After a somewhat humorous, a-whole-lot-corny Halloweeny introduction, the three guys, a drummer, guitarist and key boardist, took the stage.

“Happiness” followed, and contrary to its moniker, it could’ve brought down a televangelist on crack. Mellow, dark, with no bass backbone, it shuddered through the crowd. The next few songs boasted thundering drums (that’s good) and completely unrecognizable garble from the vocalist (that’s bad).

Whether he was singing or chattering at the crowd, every word was completely lost. And for being from L.A., they certainly did bear a resemblance to a British band. Maybe Duran Duran, if in appearance and demeanor only. What’s up with that?

Mercifully, GLN ground to a halt after a 35-minute set, prompting the men of the evening (that would be R.E.M.) to bring out champagne and glasses to toast their openers’ last show on the tour. Twenty minutes later, all heaven broke loose.

Amid an eclectic crowd from mud flaps, to blazers, to vinyl pants, erupted a wave of screams the moment the lights went out. A huge cloth backdrop shot up behind the stage as six guys (Mike Mills, Michael Stipe, Bill Berry, Peter Buck, plus two supporting musicians) strutted out on stage.

Mills had apparently scampered off to Ridiculous Rags during the rest of GLB’s set because he had donned a fabulously tacky, red glittery suit; the rest of the guys were clad in their typical scrubby, I-don’t-really-care-what-l’m-wearing attire. They launched into a turkey of songs from Monster, including the obligatory “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth,” which included a flashing light that burned every retina in the place.

It wasn’t until the fourth song— “Inside Out” from Green—that the band ventured out of Monster-infested waters. Then they stormed into a souped-up, expanded horsepower version of “Drive.” It was kind of like what Run DMC did to “Walk This Way.” Very cool. After that little booty-wiggler, Michael Stipe noticed the crowd of 9,300: “Thank you, and hello.” Pause. “This is where we are and this is what we’re doing tonight; this is where you are and this is what you’re doing tonight. And that’s cool, so let’s do it.”

So was the intro for a brand spankin’ new song: “The Wicked.” R.E.M. is definitely getting heavier (not weight-wise; Stipe is a skeleton!) in their advancing years. Think rumbling guitar and thick, plodding drums. But their stage show is always a little whacked: maybe the images of naked bodies, flowers and bubble-gum-blowing mouths flashing across the backdrop made sense to the dude behind me smoking a joint, but they completely lost me.

A couple songs later, just before a “cover” that the boys in the band dig a lot, Stipe got his second wind (not that he really had a first) once they launched into “Losing My Religion,” to the crowd’s hysteria. Buck grabbed the mandolin — one of the coolest instruments ever — and Mills whipped his wavy brown hair around with every pluck of the bass. There was even a trace of that Stipe Dance from the video. Now this was great R.E.M., the one we’d been waiting several songs for. Hilton Coliseum delved back into 1986 as Stipe framed the next song: “This was written during the dark ages of American politics when, believe it or not, Ronald Reagan was president.” Life’s Rich Pageant’s “Begin the Begin” pulsed out of the speakers, to the delight of Democrats and Republicans alike.

An invitation to get nekkid followed (Stipe had already peeled off a few layers); along with a modest hope from Stipe: “If I could wish to be anywhere right now, I would be in the top row of this building, 17 years old, by myself, with funny hair, bad skin, all the wrong clothes, and I wouldn’t give a shit. I wouldn’t even care what the band was doing because they’d be about this big.” And the crowd went nuts: This little speech was the whole reason fans love R.E.M. in the first place, whether they jumped on the wagon after Murmur or Monster.

R.E.M. plowed through most of their new stuff and (thankfully) gravitated toward Green an awful lot: “Get Up,” “Pop Song 89,” “Orange Crush” and that pesky untitled tune all got the nod. Stipe even demonstrated a little hip gyration and Elvis impersonation during “Man in the Moon.” We even got a glimpse of Document with “The One I Love” and “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).”

They made us work for the encore, too, but considering it lasted almost a half an hour, it’s understandable why they milked the applause for a full five minutes before reappearing. “Everybody Hurts” brought tears, and Stipe introduced a new song, “The Torch.” Promising to “come back real soon,” Hilton fell into blackness, and Athens’ claim to fame disappeared from the stage.