"I think my tongue is on fire!" shrieks Julia, frontwoman for Made Out of Babies, early on Trophy, her band's debut. Then she attempts to smother the flames with your face. A storm front of black humor and misanthropy that's something like a heavy-metal take on Todd Solondz's Happiness, the Babies come with moody, paranoiac rock and roll that the band compares to "a sack of hammers, a bologna sandwich, and a hamster on a creaky wheel struggling for sound control." You'll think it's all hyperbole until you experience the twitchy guitars, vocals that grate like metal on concrete, and bullying bass of this bunch. Think the Jesus Lizard with a Y chromosome. Better yet, don't think at all. It'll only slow your reaction time.