Neither do I, but apparently a guy named Duncan Sheik had a song called "Barely Breathing" that lived on the radio like a squatter who refused to pay rent.
It charted for roughly 55 weeks, which in pop music years is basically a geological era.
Then he did the most un-American thing imaginable: he got bored of being famous and went off to write a Broadway musical about depressed German teenagers.
Because nothing says "career pivot" like swapping MTV for a theater full of people who paid $200 to cry in the dark.
That musical was "Spring Awakening," and it won eight Tonys, including Best Original Score.
So the guy who sang one acoustic breakup jam in the '90s quietly became one of the most decorated composers on Broadway.
America was like, "Wait, that dude?" Yes.
Here's the part that breaks people's brains: he also wrote the music for "American Psycho," a musical.
Somehow it did not become a family-friendly holiday tradition.
He just sort of exists in a parallel celebrity dimension, the one where you're famous enough to get a Tony but not famous enough for anyone to recognize you at a Target in New Jersey.
The guy never chased the spotlight after it stopped chasing him, and there's something almost punk about that in an era where everyone's filming themselves eating soup for engagement.
He just kept writing sad, pretty songs for stage productions that cost more than your car.
Meanwhile, "Barely Breathing" still plays in grocery stores, which means an entire generation knows the melody but couldn't name the man if their lives depended on it.
Most one-hit wonders spend decades trying to recapture a moment, and he just walked away from the whole game and built a second career nobody saw coming.
Final Thoughts
In a culture obsessed with staying relevant, quietly becoming excellent at something else is the most rebellious thing a former pop star can do.