by christopher hoffman

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With his band Sad Companion, Christopher Hoffman offers the introspective wanderings and ruminations of experimental and cinematic Indie Rock.

This first volume of songs presents Christopher
as writer, singer and multi-instrumentalist; while
acknowledging his formidable voice on the cello. With an intention for subv(m)ersive song writing, Christopher has embarked on what promises to be a fanciful expedition.


released March 15, 2011

Christopher Hoffman voice/cello/autoharp/tenor guitar/tenor banjo/rhodes/organ/mellotron/electric bass/glockenspiel & drum programming

Ryan Scott Electric guitar/lap steel/voice
Christina Courtin voice/violin/viola
Frank LoCrasto piano/phrophet/panther/juno/rhodes
Bill Campbell drums/shakers/bells

With Rob Burger pump organ/accordian/marimba
and Ian Hoffman & Denise Hdrackey voice



all rights reserved


christopher hoffman Brooklyn, New York

christopher is best known as a cellist to a varying list of bands, singer/songwriters, film makers, composers, improvisers and noisers.

he currently resides in brooklyn where he runs hundred pockets records and is working on a new record!!
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Track Name: Circle In The Square
trembles under foot
and the thunders in the sky
running from the watch
of the ever seeing eye
numbers take control
of our willingness to be
the freedom that we keep
is drowning in the sea

let our guard down
now we can't go
back down wolves
we're not infected yet

black knight on the earth
in a yellow spinning sky
crying tears of blood
from the virgins spitting eyes
the cross, the rose, the crown
hold no power over me
hanging upside down
closing in

circle in the square
you must play fair
with seven swords
and wands
for cups
for keeps.
Track Name: The Ends
there is a place
where the sidewalk ends
and you never know
which way it bends

if you don't see the signs
you may fall and lose your minds
if you don't see the signs
you will fall

never knowing
never knowing
never knowing
never knowing
Track Name: Observer
face against the ground
with their footsteps all around
somewhere there's a scream
tastes of burning gasoline
oh you'll never get it clean

broken lips and tricks
don't you know your house is made of sticks
the kind that blow down
when he comes around

looking up into the starry night
giving up your only son
moving swiftly, quickly underground
observer observer observer
coming coming down

branches break
tearing paper faces out of place
moving forward
forward falling into outer space