Dimmu Borgir aren't fooling anyone who knows Emperor and Enslaved as to the true origins of its basic musical plan. Judging by the group's popularity, legitimacy doesn't really matter. In a field overrun by erratic innovators, Dimmu Borgir are a friendly face to fans who stumbled into the catacombs of black metal by way of Cradle of Filth's comical casino. So, as this gigantic gaggle of evil keyboard-wielding Yanni spawn increasingly represents the marketable side of Norwegian black metal, the more enormous and slick grows their sound. With significant melodic classical influence and lots of five-dollar words, the digital jesters construct huge plastic cathedral-sized heavy metal dance halls for the purpose of desecrating virtual-reality saints. Goons gurgle, hounds howl, fret boards flutter furiously, choirs complain to the heavens, and tiny gateways to Hades blink open and shut. It's all devilishly dirty, and in the end nobody gets hurt. --Ian Christe