Album Review: Andiwork II by Andy Creeggan – A Genre-Blurring Joyride
If you’ve ever wondered what happens when jazz takes a detour into classical territory and crashes headfirst into pop/rock, Andiwork II is your answer. Released in 2004 via Bongo Beat (props to Canada for consistently birthing cool stuff), this album feels like an eclectic mixtape made by someone who’s musically fluent but not trying too hard to impress you. It’s contemporary, modern, and somehow still timeless—like that one sweater you refuse to throw out because it just works.
Let’s talk credits real quick: Andrew Creeggan wrote the whole thing, produced it, and probably brewed coffee while mastering engineer David Travers-Smith polished the sound to perfection. Shoutout to Ralph Alfonso for the design; whoever said “don’t judge a book by its cover” clearly never saw this album art—it’s sharp, understated, and kinda mysterious.
Now onto the tracks. There are gems here, no doubt, but two standouts stuck with me long after pressing play. First up, “Sparrows.” This track feels like walking through autumn leaves with headphones on—a little melancholic, super introspective, and oddly comforting. The piano work is delicate yet deliberate, almost as if Creeggan’s fingers were dancing across the keys instead of playing them. I swear, every time those violas sneak in (yep, there’s more than one Viola track floating around), they add this rich layer of texture that makes you pause whatever you’re doing and just… listen. It’s hauntingly beautiful without being overly dramatic. Like, bravo, dude.
Then there’s “Lullaby,” which isn’t your typical sleepy-time tune. Nope. This piece has teeth. Imagine lying awake at 3 a.m., staring at the ceiling, and suddenly realizing all your life choices—but in a good way? That’s “Lullaby.” It starts soft, almost hesitant, then builds into something unexpectedly bold. The percussion hits just right, grounding the melody without overshadowing it. By the end, you’re left wondering if you should cry or get up and conquer the world. Maybe both?
The rest of the album follows suit—tracks like “Green” and “Peacock” bring quirky charm, while others like “Attendance” feel like meditative pauses between bursts of creativity. And don’t even get me started on how many versions of “Viola” there are. Is it three? Five? Honestly, I lost count, but each variation feels fresh enough to justify its existence.
What strikes me most about Andiwork II is how unapologetically human it feels. You can hear Creeggan’s fingerprints all over this project—not just as a musician but as someone pouring pieces of himself into every note. Sure, some transitions might feel a bit rough around the edges, but isn’t that part of the charm? Perfection is boring anyway.
So yeah, give this album a spin if you’re into music that doesn’t fit neatly into boxes—or genres, for that matter. Just don’t ask me why there are so many Violas. Even I don’t have answers for that one.
Final thought: Listening to Andiwork II feels like finding an old letter you wrote to yourself years ago. Familiar, surprising, and maybe even a little embarrassing—but ultimately, deeply rewarding.
