I went down a lot of Bandcamp rabbit holes in 2015, searching out good music slightly beyond the fringes of the indie mainstream, and Soft Cat, a chamber-folk ensemble out of Baltimore, is one of the finer discoveries I ended up making. Led by singer, guitarist, and songwriter Neil Sanzgiri, Soft Cat is a revolving collective of like-minded musicians who contribute everything from violin to lap steel to vibraphone to flugelhorn. Despite the overwhelming array of instrumentation, All Energy Will Rise retains a cozy intimacy and warmth. It is by no means flashy or dramatic, but it is one of the most quietly beautiful pieces of work I've heard in the past year.

Since all of the songs are designed to lead into and build off of one another, it's hard to discuss them individually without becoming repetitive. The instrumental core largely revolves around acoustic and electric guitar, as well as the spry, sweeping interplay of violin and cello. The other instruments are mainly used for a touch of color here and there. Another important element is the gentle lilt of Sanzgiri's vocals, which add nuance and depth to seemingly simplistic lyrics like, "Sell your violin/Keep your bells/And in that old song/Save yourself." This, "Old Song," is one of the album's early highlights, along with "Somebody" and the fully instrumental "New Song." The band's precise songwriting and arranging abilities allow these songs to blend seamlessly together while at the same time subtly maintaining their own identities.

There is more experimentation and variety in the latter half of the album. "Desert Eyes" is an immediate standout due to the understated twang provided by stretches of atmospheric lap steel. Sanzgiri is supported by ethereal female harmonies that build into a chill-inducing chorus that feels epic in a mellow way, backed by flourishes of fluttering flute and groaning saxophone. "A Disturbance on the Surface of a Body of Water," on the other hand, is melodically dissonant, drowned in murky acoustic guitar that threatens to overpower Sanzgiri's soft, meandering vocals. In the upbeat title track, his voice fades out until the rich and sweeping instrumentation finally does take over, almost as if the music continues long after the performers have left the room.

It's an incredibly lovely album that is incredibly difficult to sell with words alone. I would recommend simply listening to it. There's just so much charm and nostalgia and comfort in it that gripped me from its opening moments and has refused to let go since. I can only hope that anyone reading this has the same reaction, as this is certainly music that deserves wider acclaim.