Lionheart aren’t pretending to reinvent themselves on Valley of Death II, and that honesty ends up being both the album’s greatest comfort and its biggest limitation. From the opening moments, everything feels immediately recognizable: big, aggressive, and polished to a shine. The production is thick and muscular, the riffs hit with weight, and the band sound completely locked in. At the same time, there’s a persistent sense of déjà vu, as if the record is built from ideas you’ve already heard—not just across Lionheart’s catalog, but sometimes repeated within the album itself.

The opening stretch sets expectations fast and rarely strays from them. Tracks like “Bulletproof” lay out the core formula clearly: slow, tension-building intros that drop into chug-heavy grooves, mid-range shouts delivered with conviction, and plenty of room for bass and drums to flex. It’s loud, tough, and unmistakably Lionheart. The problem isn’t that it sounds bad—it’s that it sounds too familiar. Even when a riff connects, the song often hangs around longer than it needs to, stretching simple patterns past their natural lifespan and dulling their impact.

That sense of repetition becomes harder to ignore as the album unfolds. Lyrically, Lionheart return again and again to the same imagery and language: dogs, loyalty, toughness, defiance, survival. Hardcore has always thrived on recurring themes, but here they feel less like reaffirmations and more like placeholders. Titles such as “Release the Dogs” and “Roll Call” underline how often the band revisits the same concepts, sometimes without offering enough variation or new perspective to keep them feeling fresh.

There are moments where the band clearly try to shake things up. “Chewing Through the Leash,” featuring Matt Honeycutt of Kublai Khan TX, commits fully to its concept, complete with barking backing vocals and a massive, floor-rattling breakdown. It’s undeniably fun in a blunt, pit-ready way, but it also borders on gimmicky, as if the idea itself is doing more work than the songwriting. The guest feature is solid, though it doesn’t inject quite the extra menace you might expect.

Elsewhere, Lionheart experiment with pacing and atmosphere, often stripping songs back to bass and drums to build tension. In isolation, those moments work, but spread across the album they begin to blur together. “No Peace” stands out for its unexpected use of a Missy Elliott sample, flipping it into a heavy context that’s genuinely intriguing on paper. Unfortunately, the surrounding riffs feel oddly hollow, leaving the contrast to carry the track rather than enhancing it. It’s a good idea that never quite sticks the landing.

Vocally, the performances are clear, direct, and easy to latch onto, though longtime fans may miss the deeper, more guttural edge that defined earlier releases. On tracks like “Ice Cold,” the delivery sounds almost too polished—more like it’s trying to project toughness than embodying it naturally. Still, Lionheart know how to construct a moment, especially when sliding guitar lines, deep, chest-rattling drums, and gang vocals collide in simple but effective breakdowns.

The title track, “Valley of Death II,” encapsulates the album as a whole. Thick bass, solid grooves, and strong production all come together around a breakdown clearly designed to move a room. It works exactly as intended, but it never rises above that function. Even extra touches like gunshot effects feel more like surface-level seasoning than meaningful additions.

One of the more refreshing moments arrives late with “In Love With the Pain,” which at least attempts a lyrical shift by personifying pain itself. The groove hits, the backing vocals land hard, and there’s a brief sense of momentum. Yet even here, the band circle the same ideas one too many times, reinforcing the album’s central issue: strong components that don’t always know when to stop.

The closer, “Death Grip,” hints at what Valley of Death II could have been with a bit more risk. Its sharper, faster, thrash-leaning riffing injects urgency and energy that’s largely absent elsewhere. While the A Day To Remember feature is barely distinguishable, the track benefits from a slightly different attack, proving Lionheart still have room to evolve when they choose to.

In the end, Valley of Death II is heavy, polished, and undeniably Lionheart. The riffs are often effective, the production is consistently strong, and the breakdowns will absolutely do their job live. But the album struggles to feel essential or grand, settling instead into a safe, repetitive groove that rarely pushes beyond expectations. For diehards, it’s more fuel for the pit. For everyone else, it may feel like a record stuck chewing on its own leash—solid, but unwilling to let go of what it already knows.

Rating: 6/10