Fifteen years ago this month, on Nov. 5 1991, My Bloody Valentine released “Loveless.”

The explosion of the Internet through the mid-1990s created a way for everyone with a computer to click through a few browser windows and access any information they need.

Want to know the average water temperature in November for Rocky Point Mexico? Is humming on a public street on Sundays in Cicero, Ill. legal? What about which restaurant was voted to have the fifth Best Chinese Food in a 2003 Denver, CO. readers poll? Or what is the proper name for a polar bear’s outer coat?

(67 degrees Fahrenheit, no, Twin Dragon and “guard hair,” respectively.)

But the Internet has also increased the level of accountability. Not only is there an endless data bank of facts and trivia, but there is also a seemingly instant archival of quotes and opinions. It has made people more careful about what they say, for what photos they pose and what bold predictions they spout off. Do anything, and somebody will be there to blog about it, talk about it or take a picture of it. And once it’s on the Web, there’s no going back.

It has virtually eliminated revisionist history.

It’s much more difficult to claim “I said that all along,” when the Web has a thorough record of what actually has been said.

Need proof? Compare football analyst who now claim they always knew Troy Aikman would turn into one of the all-time great quarterbacks, to what those same experts said in 1989 when he lead his team to a 1-15 record.

Or look back and see how many pundits questioned Bill Clinton’s character on Election Day 1992, versus how many of them had “always felt a bit uneasy” about him during his impeachment trial.

The Net has ultimately vanquished the media’s ability to change its mind. And just wait, this perpetual responsibility is far from its pique. It’s only a matter of time before Congressional candidates have to answer to quotes and wall-postings from their college-days’ Myspace pages. Nothing paints a stronger image of a straight-laced Republican like a .jpeg of him downing a handle of Jose Cuervo in front of a Bob Marley poster during his first weekend at MIT. Good luck getting elected once the U.S. public finds out you’re a reggae fan.

So anyone who says they knew in 1991 that My Bloody Valentine’s “Loveless” would turn into the genre-bending, career-defining, hipster benchmark it has is certainly – check the facts – lying.

Nobody, not even frontman Kevin Shields, knew this wrecking ball of eccentricity would have such longevity – despite all the positive reviews it received upon its release. Sure, Shields claims now that he always knew he was recording one of the greatest albums ever. But his constant self-doubt and the way he double, triple, quadruple checked everything tells of a man paranoid of failure – not of someone certain of his greatness.

Recording the album became such a painstaking process, that it nearly bankrupt Alan McGee’s legendary independent label Creation Records – responsible for acts such as Oasis, Primal Scream, The Boo Radleys, Teenage Fanclub, Super Fury Animals, Ride and The Jesus and Mary Chain.

The album Pitchfork Media voted the No.1 album of the 1990s, received 5-out-of-5 stars from All Music Guide, Spin Magazine said was the 19th best album of its decade and the No.22 best album release between 1985-2005 and the record Rolling Stone Magazine said was the 219th best of all time… almost never happened.

Or more specifically, it almost never finished.

The 11 songs on My Bloody Valentine’s final LP – in all their 49 minutes – was the magnum opus in which all of the band’s previous quirks reached their potential… and then died out.

Genre-defining?
Check. The term “shoegazer” was coined to describe how the band played almost without movement, members staying put and staring at the ground.

Sound-altering?
Check. Shields and his bandmates said they played so loud in an attempt to make audience members vomit. “Loveless” found a way to bend guitar harmonics through backward reverberations to enhance that sonic front.

Movement-joining?
Check. The two largest musical dynamics of the early 90s were American grunge and Brit-pop. My Bloody Valentine reached both. A native of New York, Shields was able to appeal the staunchest American purest, while his band’s Irish base grand-fathered them into the U.K.’s elite. Both continents could claim the band as its own.

Bank-breaking?
Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. And for good measure… CHECK!

Like his fellow early-90′s Brit-pop guru, The La’s’ Lee Mavers, Shields’ eccentricity bordered on insanity.

Mavers was so determined to have his band’s 1990 self-titled release sound like a vintage 60′s recording, he reportedly sent all the authentic equipment back to the manufacturer because it was not covered in 30-year-old dust when it arrived. He also increasingly micro-managed everything – from the recording to the art design – that he refused to put the names of his bandmates anywhere in the liner notes of “The La’s.”

But Shields could not only match him note for note, but neurosis for neurosis.

“Loveless” featured 16 different engineers, including Alan Moulder and Dick Meaney. While recording, the perfectionist singer/guitarist refused to let those in the control booth hear him or co-vocalist Bilinda Butcher – meaning the singers would have to record an entire track before anyone could determine if the take was a success or not.

All-in-all the album would take more than three years in the studio and cost Creation Records $500,000 to record, close to another $200,000 to press and distribute copies and additional thousands for four separate music videos.

Had it not been for the label’s 1994 signing of Oasis, it would have never recovered. In fact, many people argue that its 1999 closing was still a result of “Loveless.”

But as history shows, Shields didn’t care how his quest for perfection – or, rather, fear of imperfection – would affect anyone outside of himself. He just needed to feel complete.

Which is why when the song “Sometimes” re-surfaced in the 2003 film “Lost In Translation,” it sounded all-too-perfect. What better way to soundtrack a story of people who are numb with uncertainty, than with a band that epitomizes a fear of the flawed?

What better way for My Bloody Valentine’s story to end?

The group next entered the studio in 1992 to record a follow-up, and much like the “Loveless” sessions, things dragged on… and on… and on… and on. So much so that by 1997 Shields had reportedly recorded two albums – but scrapped both. Members shifted, leaving only him and Butcher from the group’s seminal line-up.

As it stands, the unreleased, unheard and possibly still unfinished My Bloody Valentine record is the thing of myth. Leaving the image of Kevin Shields sitting alone in his home studio tinkering away – a victim of Brian Wilson-like self-indulgence – in the minds of all those fanatics clinging to the idea that maybe, just maybe, MBV isn’t over.

Hey, there are still people who think Elvis is alive, Earth is flat or that the South might rise again.

But Shields fading away under his own scrutiny would be par for his course, and not at all surprising. He’s and his band disappeared much like the frontman has for long durations throughout his career – under a swirling guitar echo of questions.

And really, nobody – not even Shields – has the answers.

But feel free to Google around for them..

Daily Herald BEEP, Nov. 4, 2007