It’s official: Maroon 5 is now big enough for me to be tired of them.
It’s a shame, because I really like the group. If you’re not familiar, they’re a funky modern-rock/pop band whose album, “Songs About Jane,” recently went platinum. Their songs “Harder to Breathe” and “This Love” have had massive radio airplay — especially the latter, hence my getting tired of them — and the band recently performed on “Saturday Night Live,” postponing a show in Utah in order to do so (not that I blame them).
The reason any of this matters is that the guitarist, James Valentine, is someone I know. His sister is Lisa Valentine Clark, who is one of my best friends. She sings “A Whole New Ward” with me on my CD and was in the Garrens Comedy Troupe for a long time. In “Snide Remarks,” she is known as Claire, notably in the column where I talked about visiting her and her family in England (they’re the ones with a son who acts like he has bees in his head, and the bees are crazy).
So I’ve met James a few times, and he even dated another friend of mine for a while, sort of, though she has subsequently married someone else. (Just as well, really. I think the marriage between a grad student and a Pier 1 employee has a much greater chance of success than the one between a grad student and a rock star.) James is a fun guy, very nice and cool and stuff. Maybe he’ll become a jerk when he becomes a millionaire, but he hasn’t so far.
Anyway, “This Love” is a great song, but man, am I sick of it now. Local station 107.5 The End has taken a particular liking to it, and so every time I tune that station in, I hear that song. Drives me crazy. The End used to be my No. 1 radio station, but now it’s my No. 2, with X96 in the No. 1 spot, even though a lot of X96 material is too hard and heavy for my tastes. I told myself I would move The End back to No. 1 if they could go 24 hours without playing “Dead Man’s Party” by Oingo Boingo, but they are apparently unwilling to meet those terms.
So anyway, congratulations, Maroon 5. You’ve really hit the big-time when you’re ubiquitous enough to be tiresome. A dubious honor, for sure, but an honor nonetheless.