The Von Bondies returned with Love Hate and Then There's You several lineup changes and nearly five years after the release of Pawn Shoppe Heart -- virtually a lifetime later in terms of musical trends. Interest in the garage rock revival of the early 2000s had already peaked when Pawn Shoppe Heart arrived in 2004, but the Von Bondies scored a genuine hit (and future theme song for the TV show Rescue Me) with "C'mon C'mon," the album's most inspired and urgent moment. Although nothing on Love Hate and Then There's You quite lives up to "C'mon C'mon," that song's passion and driving riffs provide the template for most of this album. "This Is Our Perfect Crime" picks up right where "C'mon C'mon" left off, envisioning the band as a gang uniting the kids and protecting the underground. It's an almost quaint viewpoint in the late 2000s, when a true underground is harder than ever to come by, dissolved by how hard it can be to find something vital in a music scene full of overwhelming options and instant gratification. This kind of darkly romantic earnestness dominates Love Hate and Then There's You's first half, sometimes connecting ("This Is Our Perfect Crime," "Pale Bride"), sometimes not ("Shut Your Mouth," "Only to Haunt You"). However, as the album unfolds, the Von Bondies' more playful, energetic side surfaces with the Pixies-ish "21st Birthday" -- which sounds as reckless and carefree as a song called "21st Birthday" should -- and "I Don't Wanna," another slice of revved-up guitar pop that keeps garage rock's fun and fire without slavishly rehashing its past glories. With production by Peter Katis, Butch Walker, and Rick Parker, Love Hate and Then There's You sounds even slicker than Pawn Shoppe Heart, but in a way that reflects and enhances the changes in the band's music. "Earthquake"'s unabashedly hooky melody was made for polished surroundings, and Leann Banks and Christy Hunt's backing vocals on "Blame Game" bring more than a little pop to the song's paranoia. Love Hate and Then There's You is the Von Bondies' most consistent album yet, and as they sing on "Chancer," "You don't look so cool/But you look so alive." Sometimes surviving is the best revenge. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
The altercation between the Von Bondies' Jason Stollsteimer and the White Stripes' Jack White earned the Von Bondies some literally spectacular publicity -- and simultaneously broke and perpetuated the link between the band and its former friend and mentor. However, the group's Sire debut, Pawn Shoppe Heart, not only lives up to the bigger and brighter spotlight thrown upon them as a result of that incident, it also reveals that the Von Bondies are finding their own voice. Working with producer Jerry Harrison, they sound better on record than they ever have. Previously, Stollsteimer's throaty baritone often sounded muddy and tended to overshadow the band's playing. On Pawn Shoppe Heart, the crisp but not too-slick sound gives Stollsteimer's voice, and the rest of the group's instruments, room to breathe and resonate; the result is an album that helps set the Von Bondies apart from their contemporaries and rocks just as hard as their early work. That the Detroit garage rock mainstays sound more fully formed on an album recorded in San Francisco with one of alt-rock's biggest producers is somewhat ironic, but the results speak for themselves. The excellent, exhilarating single "C'Mon C'Mon" alone justifies the Von Bondies' jump to a major label and the attendant major recording budget: its quick-shifting dynamics, call-and-response vocals, and poppy sheen make it not only the best and most distinctive song the Von Bondies have yet recorded, but one of the best singles of 2004. In fact, "C'Mon C'Mon" is so good that it nearly dwarves the rest of Pawn Shoppe Heart, but the album does have several other nearly-as-good moments. "Not That Social," an icy-hot piece of punk-pop sung by bassist Carrie Smith, capitalizes on the Von Bondies' boy-girl vocal interplay, a trick that also adds some playful complexity to the otherwise primal "The Fever." "No Regrets" borrows T. Rex's stomping glam and gets the album off to an appropriately attention-getting start; "Poison Ivy" is a rush of lust that rescues Pawn Shoppe Heart from a slight slump in its second half. The Von Bondies find Detroit a hard place to escape even in song, and tracks like the in-jokey "Been Swank" (which riffs on the name of the Soledad Brothers' drummer, Ben Swank) and "Broken Man," which describes Stollsteimer and crew as "a broken band from a broken land," tend to pull the group back into the scenesterism that most of the album works so hard to escape. And when the band returns to the swampy, bluesy side of its music, Pawn Shoppe Heart becomes a hit-or-miss affair; tracks like "Right of Way" and "Crawl Through the Darkness" are big on power but relatively small on memorable melodies. On the other hand, the slow-burning "Mairead" doesn't quite justify its five-minute length but does make full use of Stollsteimer's powerful voice, and "Pawn Shoppe Heart" itself -- as well as the thundering cover of "Try a Little Tenderness" hidden at the end of the album -- shows that the band is still in touch with its roots. Ultimately, Pawn Shoppe Heart is a transitional album, offering an imperfect but real and exciting look at where the Von Bondies have been and where they are going. Most importantly for the band, the album shows that the Von Bondies are now able to succeed or fail on their own terms, outside of the context and constraints of Detroit's garage rock scene. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
Raw and Rare, a collection of live BBC recordings from 2001 and 2002 -- plus a couple recorded at Detroit's own Lager House for good measure -- finds the Von Bondies in their element. The group's ferocious attack is captured just as well, if not better, than on their debut album, Lack of Communication; there's an added snap and electricity to these performances that remind one what all the fuss surrounding Detroit's garage rock scene was about in the first place. Nearly all of Lack of Communication and the band's early singles are reprised here, including particularly stellar versions of "Lack of Communication" itself, a swaggering, menacing "Sound of Terror," an explosive version of "Please Please Man," and a slow-burning rendition of "My Baby's Cryin'," sung by Marcie Bolen. There are two versions of both "Cryin'" and "It Came from Japan," which might be a little excessive, but at least they're all equally good performances and they don't take away from the album's flow. However, there's still room for more than competent covers of the Compulsive Gamblers' "R & R Nurse" and the Sorrows' "Take a Heart" as well as frenetic takes on their own "Vacant as a Ghost" and "Unknown," one of the appropriately scuzzy, fuzzy tracks recorded at the Lager House. Raw and Rare is an especially interesting document, considering that it came out not long before their second proper album, Pawn Shoppe Heart, produced by Jerry Harrison; while it's doubtful that their future output will be anything approaching slick, this album is a welcome reminder of the Von Bondies' rawest roots. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
Amid the national and international focus on Detroit's garage rock scene, the Von Bondies emerged with this very strong full-length debut. Lack of Communication succeeds, like much of Detroit's garage rock scene, by sounding reminiscent of bands of the past -- in this case, the MC5 and Gun Club -- while still standing on its own merit. The album must also contend with the huge shadow of Jack White (White Stripes), who had not only become a high-profile figurehead for the Detroit garage rock revival, but took the Von Bondies under his wings and acted as producer on Lack of Communication. That said, Jason Stollsteimer's vocals are to Jack White what Gene Vincent's were to Eddie Cochran: cut from the same cloth, but slightly more forceful and aggressive (the analogy is all-around high praise, yet still surprisingly appropriate). The album is also full of the sort of distorted-guitar hooks and heart-on-the-sleeve tales of relationships in the dirty city ("Cass & Henry," "No Sugar Mama") that will be endearing and expected by fans of the Detroit garage rock revival. As such, the band pushes the mold just enough to avoid pure derivation: the four-piece setup allows for more interesting interplay than the de rigueur striped-down blues setup; Marcie Bolen and Carrie Smith are given many opportunities for shared vocal duties (the chorus of "Going Down" in particular stands out); and Don Blum's drumming somehow swings while playing what is essentially forceful, straight-ahead rock. Furthermore, as a final, hidden track, Bolen takes lead vocals on a well-executed cover of Sam Cooke's "Bring It on Home to Me." Beginning with the prominent, opening title track, the Von Bondies don't so much smolder on Lack of Communication as they do burn, and, in the process, nimbly straddle the line between being fresh and familiar. ~ Aaron Warshaw, All Music Guide