On 'King Of Cowards', the band's Iggy-esque drive to dementia, Sabbath-esque squalor and Motörhead-style dirt may still be present and correct, but the songs are leaner, the long-drawn-out riff-fests are sharpened into addictive hammerblows, and the nihilistic dirges of yore alchemically have been transformed into an uplifting and inviting barrage of hedonistic abandon.