The Celestials are a moody bunch of post-punkers. They bounce back and forth between Billy Corgan-esque screeds, shoegaze blurriness and spacey ruminations - but that hang-dog moodiness is ever-present. When the sun peaks out from behind the clouds, as on "Sprout Up Branch Out," the reprieve it provides feels sunnier than it has any right to. But even in that reprieve, lead singer Max Keena's voice retains its snide air of cynicism, its slight sneer. Whatever the opposite of a cloud with a silver lining would be - it's negative. That's the Celestials. In a good way. The Celestials fare better when they're keeping close to their early '90s alternative rock base, to that murky territory where invention and reinvention occupied the very same space. - Rev. AM

[Le Voyeur, with Tadoma, 10 p.m., No cover, 404 Fourth Ave. E., Olympia, 360.943.5710]