A few years ago there were a couple of twenty something year olds that wanted to start a band—maybe they were nineteen—it doesn’t really matter. They lived in a fundamentalist conservative bubble of the already conservative Orange County; the sort of city where everything is closed at six, especially on the weekends. There would be times when the passing periods between college classes, and the time shops were closed, and the subsequent boring time when those shops were closed, all intersected—people called this “leisure time”. The two guys started playing music and recording it on computers when this happened, and then asked their friends on the computer to play with them, and eventually turned all of the computer songs into real life songs, and eventually turned the computer friends into real friends too. And they wanted a cool name for their real life band, like Chicago, or Boston, or Asia; the kinds of names that flourished with middle aged man bands during the sixties, seventies, and sometimes eighties. A one word name, maybe a couple of syllables, three at the most. They settled on Hopefield.