On their second album, Brooklyn’s garage rockettes bob through another bar-rage of deadpan, harmony-laden Spector speedballs. While the Vivs split their brief debut between love’s giddy yays and embittered nays, here they focus almost protactedly on the latter. Through the fuzz and rumble, singer-guitarist Cassie Ramone is blisteringly resentful (“You’re My Guy”), introspectively confused (“The End”), and ultimately demoralized (“Before I Start to Cry”). But buck up, ladies! With such candid, cathartic punk rompers, they may never need a rebound.