Music Review: Holy Wars Release Shadow Work/Light Work

Holy Wars aren’t interested in competing for volume anymore. They’re aiming for something that sticks long after the noise dies out.

On their latest release, Shadow Work/Light Work, the band trades in easy impact for something slower, heavier, and far more deliberate. This isn’t a record built on instant gratification or algorithm-friendly spikes. It’s a slow burn, one that leans into discomfort, tension, and the kind of emotional weight that doesn’t resolve cleanly.

From the jump, the tone is set: restrained, controlled, and quietly volatile. There’s a push-pull throughout the album between fragility and force. It never fully tips into chaos, but it never settles into calm either. It lives in that in-between space, the one most bands try to skip past.

At the center of it all is Kat Leon, whose performance anchors the entire record without ever overplaying its hand. She doesn’t chase big, theatrical moments for the sake of it. Instead, the cadence of her delivery feels measured, almost guarded at times, like every note must earn its place. When she does push, it lands with purpose. When she holds back, it says just as much.

That restraint becomes the album’s defining strength.

Lyrically, the record circles the drain with themes of loss, identity, and forced evolution, not in a polished, inspirational sense, but in a way that feels unresolved and, at times, beyond uncomfortable. It doesn’t offer answers, and it doesn’t pretend to. Instead, it sits in the tension, letting the weight of those experiences speak for itself.

In an ecosystem of endless genres, and an even more exhausting sprawl of subgenres, it’s refreshing that Holy Wars don’t fit neatly into any nomenclature.

Musically, Holy Wars operate in a space that brushes up against industrial rock and modern alt-metal, but they never lock themselves into either lane. There are mechanical undercurrents, pulsing rhythms, and textured layers that build rather than overwhelm. The band avoids the trap of stacking elements just to sound bigger. Instead, they leave space, and that space gives the record its weight.

The centerpiece, Metamorphosis, crystallizes everything the album is trying to do. It unfolds patiently, building tension instead of rushing toward release. When it finally opens, it doesn’t explode, it fractures. 

The track leans into the idea that change isn’t clean or triumphant, but costly. There’s no neat resolution, no manufactured catharsis, just the uneasy reality of becoming something new while still carrying what came before.

Elsewhere, the album continues to stretch without breaking identity. “Everything You” plays like it was pulled from the DNA of Nine Inch Nails and Hayley Williams, industrial tension wrapped around a melodic core that never softens the blow. It’s one of the more immediate tracks on the record, but even there, the band resists the urge to over-polish it.

Then there’s “Holy, Unholy,” which leans further into contrast, light and dark, control and collapse. It’s less about a single defining moment and more about the sustained unease it creates, reinforcing the album’s central theme. Nothing here resolves the way you expect it to.

What makes the album work is its cohesion. This isn’t a collection of disconnected ideas or standalone singles. It’s a fully realized body of work with a clear emotional through-line. Every choice, from pacing to dynamics, feels intentional.

That said, the same qualities that give the record its strength may also limit its reach. This isn’t an album built on immediate payoff. It requires patience, and at times, it withholds the kind of explosive moments listeners might expect. For some, that slow, deliberate pacing may feel like a lack of release. For others, it will be exactly what makes the album resonate. Because Holy Wars aren’t trying to overwhelm you. They’re trying to stay with you.

In the end, that’s what this record does best. It doesn’t chase trends or overextend itself in search of bigger moments. It trusts its atmosphere, its restraint, and its emotional core. 

“Metamorphosis” proves this band can hit hard when they want to. This album proves they don’t need to. And that choice, to hold back, to let the weight speak instead of forcing it, ends up being the most powerful move they could make.

 Ana Massard

Holy Wars are: Kat Leon: Vocals / Nick Perez: Guitar, Production / Matt Cohen: Bass / Johnny Tuosto: Drums