Three Bands on Trips That Lead to the ’60s

In a smoke-free club filled with studious indie-rock fans, the music alone created a psychedelic haze when Grizzly Bear, Beach House and the Papercuts performed at the Bowery Ballroom on Wednesday night. Harking back to the 1960s, with some technological upgrades, all three bands prize songs as reveries: havens of slow-motion drone and drift.

For Grizzly Bear that drift can lead in countless unforeseen directions: from folky picking to rippling vocal harmonies to imposing instrumental anthems. The band has two guitarists and songwriters: Edward Droste, who started the group with the drummer Christopher Bear, and Daniel Rossen, who joined it for its superb 2006 album, “Yellow House” (Warp).

Mr. Droste is usually the more ethereal, with the sweeter voice and the gentler melodies; he was the one strumming an autoharp for “Lullabye,” while Mr. Bear tapped a glockenspiel, and Christopher Taylor played a flute. Mr. Rossen, whose high voice blends with Mr. Droste’s when Grizzly Bear sings oohs and ahs, brought heftier guitar chords and touches of 1950s-rock twang to a song like “The Knife.”

Grizzly Bear’s songs usually have sparse lyrics and long instrumental episodes, but there’s hardly any jamming; it’s not that kind of psychedelic band. Each song follows its own predetermined and winding path, from oblique introspection to lush chorale to twinkly interludes and brawny guitar chords, not necessarily in that order.

Grizzly Bear’s songs usually take their time, rambling wherever they want in fascinating itineraries; “Colorado” revolved around a repeated question, “What now?,” and each song had a different answer. Yet while most of its songs are measured and unhurried, a new one, “Spring Break,” barreled ahead with frantic, punky tremolo guitars surrounding hushed verses.

The two other bands have each chosen a signature sound and write songs within it. Beach House, from Baltimore, relies on Victoria Legrand’s voice and rippling keyboard patterns, and Alex Scally’s slide guitar and laptop, mostly dispensing simple, homemade beats. With echoes of bands like Mazzy Star, the songs cycle through three or four slow chords as Ms. Legrand sings about longing, mystery and lost love, working up to a hypnotic buzz.

The Papercuts, from San Francisco, reach back most directly to the 1960s. Melding sustained organ chords with slow fingerpicked guitar, the Papercuts’ music merged Velvet Underground ballads with touches of the Byrds, while Jason Quever sang in a high, diffident voice about elusive love.

Retro as they were, the songs didn’t only trade on nostalgia; they had as much melody as atmosphere.