In all of our journalistic earnestness, we expect too much from music. We classify songs with nerdish accuracy in the belief that they actually matter in the same way that greenhouse gases matter. We dissect a lyric to delve into its meaning, as if a muso’s opinion suddenly holds more weight because it’s backed by a jangling Rickenbacker. Too often, our considerations when writing about music are anything but musical in nature. It’s all a little ridiculous. What the rock crit fraternity—whoever the hell they/we are—should really write about is good music. A good song is a good song is a good song. No amount of navel gazing can deny this fact.

I’ll lead the way. Formerly of Newcastle indie rock band Muzzy Pep—one of the most ramshackle band of unprofessionals I’ve ever seen (and an entire Stypod entry themselves)—Errol J.M. has struck out on his own with “Zeros and Ones.” It’s garnered significant airplay on Australia youth radio station Triple J, which thrives on this sort of pop/rock. And sure, “Zeros and Ones” seems like the typical fodder of your (more discerning and less aggressive) adolescent. There are guitars, a definite air of coolness (particularly in the sparsely textured verses) and a little quirkiness to the lyric. It would have grabbed my attention as a fifteen year old. However, that is not meant to be a criticism. There’s a lot more to this song than first inspection would suggest. Perhaps I was a discerning adolescent.

Errol J.M. has a talent for melody and on “Zeros and Ones” this prolific talent is evident. The song has three distinct hooks—the verse, the chorus (There’s something wrong with this picture…”) and the bridge (“No pictures, no comments…”). Where other songwriters struggle even to find one for a song, each hook in “Zeros and Ones” is compelling in its own right. The bridge in particular is a classic—expanding upon the melodic ideas in the verse and building the tension for the final cathartic chorus. I defy you not to be humming this song after a few spins.

More noteworthy perhaps is the song’s arrangement. It’s rhythmically simplistic throughout, built on steady eighth notes in the drums and guitar. The beat is one that’s guaranteed to get your head bobbing and after two lines of the verse the understated—and soberly straight—groove is well established. Layers are added progressively—harmonies here, electric guitar lines there. The song is catchy, if likely to peter out into a distant indie memory. However, much like that Scottish anthem “Take Me Out,” the second half explodes into orbit. Fuzzed guitar blares in your right ear and crash cymbals take center stage. There isn’t much that’s musically different, but the texture thickens and the energy lifts noticeably. Errol J.M.’s voice, previously oh-so-smooth in the verses, is now distorted and antagonistic.

After a little over three minutes the song crashes into a heap, with only the ringing guitar ostinato piercing the din. It draws you back to the song’s beginning, when that same riff heralded such promise. Promise of what I can’t say exactly; nor can I say that post-“Zeros and Ones” I’m that much more fashionable or enlightened. However, I do feel exhilarated and enthused once more about music. Surely that is all we should expect from a good song.

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