January 2010. Sleet and half-melted snow make the sharp-slanted streets of Sheffield, the hilliest town I’ve lived in, impossible to navigate. No grip at all with cheap Topshop Chuck Taylor knockoffs. Still, the O2 Academy brings some relief.

As I’ve mentioned before, I hold that night of January 2010 dear to my heart, as it was the first time I witnessed The Hope Explosion. Their name is no longer seen in any of the rosters or playlists bandied around. Their music might be a half-forgotten memory to those who lived and breathed the scene* back then.

Full disclosure: I was a mega-fan, hooked from the first time I heard them until their dissolution. These things happen when you’re a addict to music: you’ll find bands that you’ll get attached to and eventually will have to let go. Because that’s life sometimes, and it’s the beat we must dance to if we desire not to stagnate at a certain point in time and space.

A year or so ago, Matthew Doxey from Studio Tesla got in touch. The Hope Explosion’s EP from 2011 (our review) was now available. Remastered, fine tuned for consumption. A tight EP got a breath of fresh air, and kinks were truly ironed out. ‘Get Her’ packs a stronger punch while still keeping that acrobatic attitude. The mean streak of ‘The Bored and Broken Hearted Pt. 2’ keeps that Buckley-in-a-spacey-Corgan-atmosphere ambiance, cyclically -and cynically- dancing through emotional veils, torn asunder, never to mend.

It’s ‘Gone’, however, the one track I never actually realised was my fave from this EP. This remastering brought a new life to the track and just like a long lost memory hidden in the dark recess of my noggin, it springs back into the limelight. The almost ceremonial interlude in the middle (you’ll recognise it when you hear it) brought a few tears. We all have that one memory, that particular moment we carry in our chest, that comes out. This i the feeling ‘Gone’ has grappled out of my soul. And I’m thankful for it.

And now we have ‘Diamonds’. The last** ever track from The Hope Explosion. Expansive, emotional, full of panache and a reverence to the importance of silence. It never overwhelms you sonically, but it won’t hold back emotionally. It’s poppy enough to bang your head to it, but with enough meat around the bone to savour the atmospheric sections of it. Any band would’ve over-produced and add violins -or any other type of frosting- to it, but it doesn’t need any extras, this is a full meal, a last meal. And although we, those who still hold a candle for The Hope Explosion, might feel peckish again, this was a fantastic last meal.

Thanks for everything, hermanos. See you on the other side.

—Sam Valdés López

*Term used loosely.

**Finality is a hard thing to accept until you reach a certain age. I’m deep into this age and it scares me.