From a casual listener to Renaissance polyphony, that might be a legitimate question, but from anyone who has studied/performed this music, it would be deeply disingenuous. Okay, Casual Listener, it's pretty technical stuff, concerning the rules of harmony and counterpoint based on mathematical ratios, rules about 'musica ficta' for the avoidance of unacceptable intervals, etc etc. You can actually find out a lot about those rules, which were quite essential to the great Flemish composers of the 15th C, on wikipedia. I'll give you some links in a comment. But remember the universal rule of rules? "Rules are made to be broken." We all know that some rule-breakers blunder into things like a first-term Tea Party Congressman and make a mess. Then there are artful rule-breakers, those who prepare their assaults on conventionality and who reveal a new logic within the system of rules.
The 16th Century was replete with rule-extending composers: Adrian Willaert, Cipriano de Rore, Carlo Gesualdo and scores of others whose scores became inexorably more chromatic. [Note that pun, note lovers!] Eminent among them was Nicolas Gombert (1495-1560), who was noted among his contemporaries for his notable employment of dissonances -- his rule-breaking -- including flagrant tritones, crunchy cross-relations, and bizarre cadences. Gombert departed from the tasteful serenity of his predecessor Josquin in many ways, among them his predilection for "thick" textures of polyphony wherein six or more voices sustain their lines with few rests. Trying to "fix" a Gombert score by applying the rules of ficta that had been universal in Josquin's era had led many editors into insoluble perplexities, but nonetheless smoothed-out scores have served to render Gombert 'singable' and insipid for choirs and consorts at all levels from amateur to prominent recording artists.
More recent interpretations of Gombert's masses and motets have demonstrated that what he wrote was what he meant to be heard. If you've sung Gombert or listened to older recordings of Gombert, you will be flabbergasted by the "new Gombert" you'll hear in this performance by Henry's Eight, an all-male vocal consort. Mind you, if you haven't heard the "old Gombert" and if your ears have been conditioned by post-Romantic compositions -- Strauss, Janacek, Prokofiev -- you may not experience the frisson Gombert intended as you listen to the utterly outrageous conclusion of his Magnificat or the flamboyantly chromatic final Agnus Dei of the Miss Tempori Paschali. Even if you aren't startled, however, I can guarantee that you won't find this "new Gombert" insipid or conventional.
Henry's Eight has been around for more than a decade, but I hadn't paid much attention to them until recently. Perhaps I was put off by the dorky name the consort has given itself, or perhaps I had doubts about yet another British vocal ensemble that would sound the same as all the others. Henry's Eight doesn't sound the same. The balance of voices is NOT skewed toward the highest, whether male or female. The tenor and bass parts are sung with vigorous timbres and with independence of phrasing. "Balance" in pre-Baroque polyphony is NOT a question of blending but rather a matter of matching and maintaining rhetorical identity. Henry's Eight has superb balance. To be able to follow each voice through the maze of Gombert's six or eight intersecting lines is a sheer delight. This is a delightful performance, which supersedes any previous recommendation.