Breathe Carolina plays a particular brand of synth pop that has worn so thin, it's practically transparent. Yet in the hands of the group's architects, David and Kyle, the songs, which are tinted with a swirl of screamo, work in curiously refreshing ways. Recalling Jeff Lynne's joyful abuse of pop on the Xanadu soundtrack, the pair has crafted a sound that conjures Air after one too many repeated viewings of Napoleon Dynamite. Speaking to the unevolved adolescent heart in everyone, much like the gloriously ridiculous Gil Mantera's Party Dream, you can't take the members of Breathe Carolina (due at the Marquis Theater this Saturday, August 25, with the Chain Gang of 1974) or their music too seriously. Some wear irony and kitsch like a badge; these two twirl it around like glow sticks at a rave, thumbing their noses at anyone who isn't having fun.