I suppose I should have expected nothing less than a grandiloquent pronouncement on the state of rock itself from Robert Hilburn's Los Angeles Times review of a recent concert by The Verve. After all, in both songs and interviews, The Verve have made clear their lofty ambitions to mine the majestic tradition of rock's greatest writers.

But even if I'd been prepared for Hilburn's sky-is-falling assertion that "rock's relevance and future are more in question than at any time since the early '60s," I still couldn't agree with it. What particularly stuck in my craw was the respected critic's claim -- a notion proffered by numerous other music pundits as well -- that American airwaves are cluttered of late with one-hit wonders, or, for the sake of brevity, OHWs.

Because The Verve's breakthrough hit, "Bitter Sweet Symphony," has been ubiquitous on rock radio over the past nine months, Hilburn writes, "It's easy for much of the pop world to think of The Verve as simply another in the current rash of one-hit wonders."

This point raised many questions for me, including who are these one-hit wonders? Sure, we've seen some novelty singles recently, such as Aqua's "Barbie Girl," but are we suffering more now than at any other time in rock history?

Over the past year, more than one writer has tossed off names such as Third Eye Blind, Smash Mouth and Sugar Ray as culprits in a perceived flood of OHWs. While I'm not a staunch advocate for any of these groups, I have to take exception to branding them as single-song has-beens. Third Eye Blind, for instance, are at least three-hit wonders, as evidenced by their omnipotent grip on modern-rock radio with the songs "How's It Going To Be," "Graduate" (RealAudio excerpt) and "Semi-Charmed Life."

In Smash Mouth's case, their slice of retro cool, "Walking On The Sun," may in time prove to be their sole moment in the spotlight -- but the key phrase here is "in time." It hardly seems fair to stamp this band as a one-hit wonder until it has either decided to break up in the wake of its success (it hasn't) or made several failed bids to repeat that success (the band has not yet recorded a follow-up).

Sugar Ray fall into the same category, while offering a counter-argument to those who decry the lack of talent development done by record labels. Like Smash Mouth, the act has not had a chance to repeat the success of its first hit, "Fly" (RealAudio excerpt). But that hit came from Floored, Sugar Ray's second album -- which may actually be evidence of Atlantic Records' support for the ska-pop group, since its 1995 debut, Lemonade and Brownies, was released to little notice. (One would presume that Atlantic is even more supportive now as the group works on its follow-up to Floored and "Fly.")

Of course, all of these points are somewhat moot in the face of the larger question: "Who cares if they're one-hit wonders?"

One-hit wonders have served up some of the best -- the best -- rock 'n' roll in history. Dig these few right off the top of my head: "96 Tears" by ? and the Mysterians; "Wooly Bully" by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs; and, perhaps the single most potent slab of all, "Louie Louie" by the Kingsmen.

In light of Rhino Records' forthcoming Nuggets four-CD set, you might expect rock scribes to be falling over themselves to make this point. Inspired by the original Nuggets compilation album (1972), the set includes, among scores of other tracks, such ace stabs at perfection as "Psychotic Reaction" by the Count Five, "Dirty Water" by the Standells, the Human Beinz's "Nobody But Me" and the Music Explosion's "Little Bit O' Soul."

You'd think a roster like that would inspire fans to pray for more one-hit wonders, so long as they could cook up such high-caliber material. Do we really need anything more from the Kingsmen after "Louie Louie"? I, for one, have a two-CD set from the Troggs (a purchase admittedly inspired by the raving obsessions of late OHW fanatic Lester Bangs) -- but I only listen to "Wild Thing."

And since the postal worker delivered an advance of the Nuggets set, I've played the Swingin' Medallions' "Double Shot (Of My Baby's Love)" about a dozen times a day -- more than I've played career acts such as Pink Floyd, David Bowie or Eric Clapton over the past five years.

I'm not so sure we have any one-hit wonders on our hands at the moment. But even if we do, then so what?

If the point of critics leveling charges of one-hit-wonderism at current acts is to push the accused toward "more serious" work, I'd say Hilburn's assessment was off by about a decade. We're not at rock's lowest point since the early '60s, but maybe we'll soon be approaching the musical nadir of the early '70s, when bloated attempts at stodgy, serious rock led us toward the musical dreck that could only be purged by the emergence of punk.