The Cell Phones demand your discomfort, beginning with their name’s deliberate courtship with banality. The diva with the mic, the gentleman on bi-amped acoustic bass, and the wiry lad behind the little kit do not apologize, daring your eye-rolls and sighs of dismissal. Two notes of blast-beat, angular overdriven bass crunch, and seductress/siren wail later, and you will remind yourself never ever again to make aural judgments on the basis of any evidence other than sonic manifestation — a manifestation the Cellies approach in its ideal state, SURPISE. — 1009