ender Trap, a 3 piece hailing from the pasty hillsides of Mother England, have not only displayed an admirable songwriting dynamic and natural pop sensibility on their debut release, Film Molecules, but they have also forced a reviewer to get his head most of the way out of his ass. An assured, energetic mixture of dense Magnetic Fields style retro synth pop, wistful, shimmering keyboard programming and straight up punk pop, Film Molecules made me look at some of my pretensions about pop music, laugh, and then forget them under the influence of the charming hooks littered all over this record. Tender Trap's proposed modus operandi when starting out was to eschew live performance, keep all tracks under 2 minutes whilst making a conscious effort to stay away from excessive choruses and middle 8's. Though Marine Research and Heavenly, the trio's former bands, had drummers, studio's and a less linear approach to the song, the bands self-professed desire to go 'backwards' this time around has produced excellent results. An offer from The Magnetic Fields to support them in Dublin quickly ruined the trio's live plan, but the lack of repeated chorus' and the usually absent middle 8's make these 13 tracks brief, tight and at times, ridiculously catchy. Only the last track ("You are gone {so you should go}") overstays it's welcome, with an unnecessary 3 minutes of uninspired keyboard beats and blurting synths following the typically well executed 3 minutes of sharp, literate pop. Supported by raw and assured production, Film Molecules would never be described as "groundbreaking", but the chops displayed here are undeniable and while their take on lean, non-lobotomized pop is unique and totally enjoyable, its fairly obvious Tender Trap are not trying to induce existential wonderment in the listener.


Merritt's work within and without the Magnetic Fields is the most obvious reference point for Film Molecules, and halfway through the first track "Fin", we find a chorus hook straight out of his eclectic songbook. "Fin" begins with panned foreign voices being enveloped by insistent house synths and spare, open guitar chords. Soon enough, the track blows open with a gorgeous syrup of analog synths, guitar and bass with a sparkling keyboard drone lifting singer Amelia Fletcher's breathy, sweet voice easily above the dense sonics.


"Oh Katrina" is a perfect example of a track that upon first listen had me reaching for the eject button (as my fear and hate of kitschy, vacuous pop arose), but now has me nodding my head like an agitated cokehead. The second track, it begins with direct 4/4 drums and a dirty, skewed riff that eventually decides to meld into a sweet pop chorus, is replete with some spastic, jangly guitar work and Fletchers mellifluous multi tracked back-up vocals. The instrumentation is assured and precise throughout the record and this track is no exception, used here to support Fletcher's rebuttal of the Kadane brothers' recent treatise on the subject of adding 1 to 1 (what was I saying about lobotomies?). Those looking for profound lyrical insight in their pop may have to look elsewhere, but Fletcher's lyricism is not the lightweight fluff the summery, throwaway mood of the material suggests, and substance is often found in her reflections on sex, career and the media. "Summery" and "throwaway," actually, are not as appropriate when dealing with "Talk in Song" - by far my favorite track on the record and one of the best pop songs I've heard this year. Based on the winding interplay of Rob Pursey and John Stanley (aka DJ Downfall) on guitar and bass, the stop start verse sees Fletcher thinking aloud about the social machinations of being a musician, backed by spacious, brushed beats. An impossibly smooth transition into the chorus hook showcases Fletcher's warm, expressive vocals as she coos "It is easier to talk in song/I'm so far from/your heart/". Framed with quotation marks on paper it looks trite, but Fletcher's sincerity and conviction are undeniable, especially in the context of such an exquisitely simple pop song.


"Face of 73" showcases some simple, throbbing house synths and 80's casio effects over an insistent keyboard beat and a massive chorus hook that prevents the aforementioned arrangement from being as unbearable as the intro to the track intimates. "Face of 73" segues into "That Girl", the tale of a high school elitist, framed with enough pop culture references to make the Strokes mention later in the album almost predictable. "Better to read Patti Smith and Simone de Beauvoir/to know how things are" Fletcher sings, leading into a chorus where that girl is found to have a "second degree in the language of cool" arrived at in part by her expertise on record sleeve art and thinking that "Travis are boring (and) Le Tigre are smart." It is admirable that Fletcher represents the "heroine" in this tale as just as much a victim of media manipulation as her Travis-loving peers. Still, this wouldn't have resonated with me as strongly if I hadn't been attracted to women like this in high school (and if I hadn't been seduced by the pure Magnetic Fields outdated kitsch of the arrangement, which, with it's vocoder synths and unashamedly twee vocals, finds itself going past bad and back to good again.)


The band repeats itself at times, the riff and beat on "Chemical Reaction" approximating that of "Oh Katrina" fairly well, and the kitschy synth tones and keyboard beats can get a little nauseating. "Dyspraxic," a 45-second blast of punk pop, sounds a little primitive and pointless next to the more complex, fleshed out tracks that surround it. But any flaws here are soon overshadowed by the consistency of the songwriting and the professional arrangements, lively enough to seem real and produced well enough to pull off the rapid changes in style, be it wistful mid tempo numbers ("Son of Dorian Gray") or Pursey and Fletcher's expert Merritt aping in the call and response outro of "Love is Red/Green". True to their intention, almost every song finishes before you can tire of it, leaving the listener wanting more, and encouraging me to listen to tracks on repeat, a practice I've never really engaged before. When the aforementioned house synths started blaring at the beginning of "Fin", I thought this would be the first and last listen for this album. It was not a fond introduction - her voice seemed too twee and their pop too derivative and kitsch to have me step outside my small, overheated corner of the world and actually evaluate a style of music I wasn't fond of. The frequently sublime execution on Film Molecules soon had me realising the limiting nature of my pretensions and the simple beauty of music so capable of provoking ridiculous smiles at odd times.