I've watched from the corners of the sweaty basements where the most beautiful boys in the scene saw Lil Sluggers. How many understood? I couldn't say. Few, I suspect. It meant the world to me. That Bells Below is the swansong of a band not given their due reminds one of every great painting moldering in the attic in some country town or every poem discarded by bitter lovers and never read again. I remember, though.
