There’s no atmosphere, no buildup, no interest in musicality as a concept, VULVECTOMY are here to drag you through 30 minutes of raw, putrid excess with "Aberrant Vaginal Gestation", and they do it like it’s a surgical obligation. The guitars are tuned so low they barely function as notes, more like audible discharges of pressure, slabs of sound loaded with sludge, completely void of finesse or clarity.

As soon as "Embryonal Cystic Malformation" kicks in, you’re already too late to brace yourself. The riffs don’t flow—they collide, slam into walls, and disintegrate. The bass is practically fused to the drum triggers, a guttural throb that pulses beneath every blastbeat. And the vocals? Less "voice" and more "internal fluids being forced through a meat grinder." It’s not even human anymore, it’s anatomical abuse set to rhythm. Every track is a slab of sonic body horror, more interested in inflicting damage than being remembered.

"Vaginal Skin Atrophy" might be one of the filthiest things VULVECTOMY have ever recorded. It doesn’t aim to surprise—it aims to crush. There’s no need for novelty here. This kind of music isn’t about evolution; it’s about pressure, abrasion, disgust. The kind of track that leaves you slack-jawed and weirdly fulfilled, like you’ve just survived a medical experiment you didn’t consent to.

The production is grotesque in the most deliberate way. Everything’s too loud, too close, too compressed, and somehow it works perfectly. The album sounds like it’s decomposing in real time: infected, swollen, and festering. And if that makes you smile, then you already know this is for you.

"Aberrant Vaginal Gestation" is a celebration of bad taste, anatomical horror, and everything that makes brutal death metal intolerable to outsiders. It’s bloated, nasty, and proudly unmusical. It makes no apologies, offers no handrails, and vomits in the face of subtlety. For those of us who live for this level of sonic repulsiveness, it’s a banquet of bile. For everyone else? It’s a warning to stay far, far away.