If you start listening to Fear Draws Misfortune and feel like you have heard it all somewhere else, consider yourself a fortunate person. Sure, particular aspects of the music invite comparison to other groups. It is difficult to ignore the complicated Larks Tongues-y time signatures, minor keys, and sectional compositions that remind one of early King Crimson. Bring in the horn arrangements and you have some cause for referencing Blood Sweat and Tears or maybe Herb Alpert (of whom drummer/trumpeter/vocalist Thymme Jones is a fan). But where does your association cortex reach for those rich male-female vocal harmonies? Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross? Brecht? But whatever the actual recipe for this CD, the resulting dish is unique. It is also quite addictive.

This is an album of organic wholes. While the hugely varied instrumentation, for example, tends to change from song to song, both recurring themes and compositional approaches thread a sense of continuity throughout the tracks. And despite the variety of the arrangements, the music is tight to the nth degree. Thymme Jones' consistent timekeeping (and general virtuosity) surely feed this tendency, but all of the instruments unfailingly seem to fit perfectly into the whole.

Perhaps the most impressive example of the organic quality of this music is the use of vocals, where the sounds range from straightforward lead singing to choral to almost non-vocal. On parts of "Blue Cheadle," for example, the voices are staccato and nonverbal, used more like instruments. Not only is the mixture of male and female voice and use of harmonies an excellent way for the group to stand out among the neo-prog minions, it more importantly makes sense for the compositions. The voices supply what the songs need, rather than filling expected roles.

Even with the strong sense of wholeness to the CD, though, surprises abound. "Disenchantment," for example, stands out in sonic contrast from other tracks. It centrally features a synthesizer line that initially gives the song a palpable sense of dread with its sludgy warped-record sound. Yet halfway through the music shifts radically and centers on vocals by Aleksandra Tomaszewska.

Another oddly sectional piece is "Your Weak Heart." It begins and ends as a piano ballad with stunning heartfelt vocals by Thymme Jones. In the middle, however, the tempo picks up significantly and we are back in full prog mode, as a horn section battles it out with ELP-like synth lines. It's a daring composition that raises the question of how much juxtaposition is too much.