The product of a sympathetic nervous system askew, Fake Limbs is simultaneous fight and flight; hysteria with teeth. This dumb, lumbering beast with four backs just wants to graze and screw but when forced into a corner, it transforms ferociously. They’re part Harry and the Hendersons and part Smokey and the Bandit II (the one where all the cops get destroyed). Concussive, unrelenting percussion supports wild, desperate guitars and unhinged vocalization. They transcend both the flailing childish entitlement of the aggro and the apologetic whining of the meek. The result is uncomfortable, loud, and sexually confusing.