The one-hit wonder might be the greatest concept in the history of pop music.

I find it endlessly entertaining to consult the cavalcade of one-hit wonders lists that infest the internet and eventually prompt at least one episode on any credible music podcast.

The contrast between legendary artists such as the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Elvis Presley and Bob Dylan, and obscure performers who briefly dominated radio airwaves, fascinates me.

Even people who don’t care for pop music understand why the Beatles are icons.

But explaining why the Starland Vocal Band, or Dexys Midnight Runners, or Carl Douglas retain a certain fame after many decades despite their minuscule contributions, defies simple explanation.

I’m not terribly interested in the definition of one-hit wonders.

Some lists are limited to artists who had only one song that made the top 40 on the Billboard charts. Others confine their choices to songs that cracked the top 10.

The one-hit wonders that fascinate me, though, are those that are particularly prominent — songs that for some reason cemented themselves onto popular culture and, like barnacles, refuse to be dislodged.

In some cases, it seems to me, the one-hit wonder persists because it is a rather dreadful song, and listeners are mystified that it ever sold enough copies, and was played so often on the radio, to ascend the charts.

The aforementioned Starland Vocal Band, for instance, is nearly ubiquitous on rosters of one-hit wonders from the 1970s.

The quartet’s 1976 song, “Afternoon Delight,” with lyrics that clash with its wholesome harmonies, was a No. 1 hit.

Notwithstanding the subjective nature of music, I doubt that many people would defend “Afternoon Delight” as a genuine accomplishment.

I think it’s pretty awful, actually.

But when I hear it I never turn it off.

It’s insidious.

Many one-hit wonders are like that — we know we shouldn’t like them but we can’t help but sing along.

Others, though, are generally accepted as solid songs.

This makes them especially compelling, I think.

Why, for instance, was Ram Jam, which released “Black Betty” in 1977, a tour de force of heavy guitar riffs that Jimmy Page might have envied, unable to come up with another hit?

A Flock of Seagulls, an English synth-pop band, was at least as well-known for 1982’s “I Ran (So Far Away)” as for lead singer and keyboardist Mike Score’s unusual hairstyle. Yet they couldn’t replicate the magic, even though their style of music remained popular for the next few years.

I can’t choose a favorite one-hit wonder.

But I remember one with special fondness.

“Pop Muzik” was a No. 1 song in 1979. The artist, though dubbed “M,” was actually Englishman Robin Scott.

I bought the song on 45 rpm vinyl. I once played it, as I recall, at least a dozen times in a row.

Why my dad didn’t shut off the circuit breaker I will never know.