Chairlift, High Places and last night at Galapagos, Himalaya. So many bands, but just one question: who can take you higher? On Thursday night in Williamsburg, Himalaya headlined an otherwise dismal show of bands whose love of the 70s came off as jam-band fan worship. Himalaya looks back one decade earlier, to the 60s, and comes up with a reverb heavy grunge/psych rock that sounds, believe it or not, utterly contemporary.

Contemporary in a don't-look-back-in-anger kind of way: where LA is the new SF, and the 90s, the new retro (leave those leggings behind!). It's the return of grunge, but also, the hippie, and with both, a new kind of earnestness. Artists like Devendra Barnhart and Wolfmother are not kidding around: they really like their flowers and paisley, and the guitar solos that come with them.

Himalaya play a Screaming Trees version of grunge, with just enough avant rock to make it interesting..a reminder that Philadelphia (where four of the band's five members hail from) is increasingly a psych rock capital and home to experimental collective Bardo Pond. The show at Galapagos was one of the group's first as a re-formed band ready to try their fortunes in New York. Lead singer Jamie Scythes' image-laden lyrics were suitably stoney, as were the band's three guitars, producing a loud and fuzzy, subtly pop-infused drone. Organist Mark Hershey gives the music added weight. It's the kind of music you can get lost in.

Even better were the band's visuals, projected on a screen which framed Sythes and the drummer but left the other members in darkness. Many of the images were clearly Asian-inspired, like the Japanime figures that spun around in kaleidoscope configurations. From tiny black and white blocks expanding in geometric patterns to horizontal bands of vibrating color, it was one of the best projections I've seen in a while. Best of all, the band members did the work themselves (with the help of their friend Mark Grieco).

Galapagos has been in Williamsburg a long time, and has managed to survive the rising rents and still produce low-cost, home-grown shows. They've even recently expanded to include a big back room with an extra stage. That said, there have been many times I've been disappointed there, but seeing an act like Himalaya kinda makes it all seem worthwhile.

The raised beer: a gesture of solidarity.

My lack of photographic skill completely frustrated any effort to capture Himalaya's beautiful visuals: my camera and its flash either blew them into a completely white block, or provided predictably blurry, indecipherable versions of the vibrant originals.