There are death metal albums that try to impress you. And then there's "Purulent Apocalypse", which instead smashes a jar of bile in your face and demands that you thank it. CAUSTIC PHLEGM aren’t chasing clarity or accessibility; they’re too busy suffocating their riffs in sewage and dragging every note through layers of rot and corrosion.

From the opening seconds of "Intestinal Reign", it’s clear you're in for something utterly grotesque. Guitars don’t crunch—they lurch, stumble, and collapse under their own diseased weight. The drums sound less like percussion and more like a brawl between overflowing dumpsters. And the vocals? They're pure phlegm-drenched malice, delivered like someone vomiting nails and stomach acid straight into a broken microphone. The production doesn’t attempt to sanitize any of this; it leans in, magnifying the grime and feedback until it feels like the speakers themselves are festering.

There’s structure buried beneath the chaos, though. "Larval Dominion" unleashes riffs that crawl under your skin like infestations, while "Pathogenic Tomb" feels like being slowly digested in a vat of toxic slime. Every track is violent, malformed, and crawling with decay, but somehow the dissonance and brutality fall into place like a ritualistic cadence of sickness.

What makes "Purulent Apocalypse" linger, long after the nausea wears off, is its commitment to total aesthetic collapse. This isn't just music; it’s a statement of intent. CAUSTIC PHLEGM don’t want to entertain you: they want to infect you. It's as if the band sculpted each track from the inside of a clogged drain, weaponizing filth as atmosphere. By the time you're halfway through, you're grinning like a lunatic, wondering why it feels so good to be this repulsed. This record isn’t just heavy, it’s putrid. And that’s exactly the point.