It’s late March, there is still snow on the ground where I live, and yet I already feel anticipatory dread for the onset of our most tiresome annual pop music–related conversation. I am of course referring to endless talk about “summer jams.” And I truly do mean endless: The babble began in earnest around this time last year, when Daft Punk started teasing “Get Lucky” in commercials and then at Coachella. Immediately, dozens of pop pundits tripped over themselves to declare “Get Lucky” the soundtrack of a season that was still several months away from commencing. When summer finally came around, the quacking naturally grew hotter. What about “Blurred Lines”? Or “We Can’t Stop”? Or “Cruise”? Or “Royals”? Or 11 other prospective jams? Seemingly every week, an imaginary jam-off was waged in the press to determine that which is most summery. Look, I like summer jams as much as anybody. After approximately 145 months of winter, I yearn for summer, period. Play Uncle Kracker’s entire discography in the background for all I care, just please give me a day above 60 degrees already. But what once was an unofficial designation organically determined by listeners is now breathlessly analyzed in the media like a presidential election. By the fall, Billboard and US Weekly were already describing Katy Perry’s “This Is How We Do” as a potential summer jam o’ 2014 candidate. Just as one campaign ends, another begins. It’s enough to make one weary of summer and/or jams, otherwise two of God’s greatest gifts to mankind.