Reviews of new records from 2 Chainz, MGMT, and more


2 Chainz, B.O.A.T.S. II: #METIME
The sequel from Atlanta’s gut-bustingest guest rapper suffers the same fate as his debut: One minute of Chainz’ absurdist couplets is gold, but the longer he coasts on his own, the more the shine fades. Still, posse cuts like the Drake-and Lil Wayne-assisted ”I Do It” are raucous neck-snapping fun. B Kyle Anderson

The psychedelic Brooklyn duo’s third album forces the question: Do MGMT even want to be here? Though there are flashes of gratifyingly gauzy pop (like the spy-movie-cool ”Mystery Disease”), their cavalcade of goopy dross and hippie-dippy navel-gazing takes a left at transcendence and eventually just lets this bloated trip sputter out altogether. C-Kyle Anderson

Chris Young, A.M.
Young’s deep croon was tailor-made for Nashville storytelling, which is why he’s already hit No. 1 on the country charts with evocative songs like ”Tomorrow” and ”Voices.” Some of that soul survives on his fourth album (see: ”Text Me Texas,” ”Hold You to It”), but too often he falls into the ”bro country” trap currently plaguing the genre, unconvincingly banging out bar rompers ”A.M.” and ”Aw Naw,” which feel flimsier than red Solo cups at a frat party. B-Grady Smith

Grouplove, Spreading Rumours
Grouplove’s Glee-approved 2011 single ”Tongue Tied” was a swinging, hedonistic joygasm, and they spend their second album trying to turn every song into another shout-out-loud anthem, which sometimes blunts the genuine highs of the driving ”What I Know” and the jaunty po-mo hoedown ”Sit Still.” B Kyle Anderson

Sebadoh, Defend Yourself
Like a Jurassic-period insect preserved in amber, the quintessential indie-rock band’s tried-and-true sound remains remarkably, stubbornly intact on their first album in 14 years. Lou Barlow’s resigned confessionals (sample lyric: ”Failure is a state of mine”) and fuzzy guitar antiheroics once again combine for a well-crafted set of slacker sing-alongs guaranteed to make curmudgeonly record-store clerks of a certain vintage (almost) crack a smile. B+Ray Rahman