A Guide to the Complete Albums of The Replacements

The Replacements never intended to be one of rock’s greatest bands. At times it seemed like the Minneapolis group openly resisted it, both through their tongue-in-cheek musical statements (“I hate music/It’s got too many notes“; “Label wants a hit and we don’t give a shit“) as well as baffling onstage stunts like dropping an f-bomb on network TV, excessive drinking (which vocalist/songwriter Paul Westerberg would later credit to being “scared shitless”), and a track record of live performances that swung from miraculous to disastrous in just the course of 24 hours, as documented in Michael Azerrad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life.

Those conflicts and contradictions were crucial to the band’s identity, however. The Replacements could be painfully earnest or drunkenly sarcastic, capable of both triumph and pulling the rug out from underneath it. As esteemed Treble alum A.T. Bossenger once put it so succinctly in their assessment of some of the Replacements’ best songs: “Rowdy drunks. Artists. Pranksters. Innovators. Assholes.” You can argue they were a great band either because of or in spite of those things, and either might be true.

The volatile nature of the band, who began when bassist Tommy Stinson was just a teenager and the rest were in their early twenties, inevitably meant they wouldn’t be able to sustain it in the long-term, and they split up 10 years after the release of their debut album. But in that decade, they released seven good-to-perfect albums, kicking off their career with raucous garage punk and eventually embracing a more melodic, nuanced showcase of Paul Westerberg’s songwriting. And at their peak, they were releasing some of the best rock music of the 1980s. And while they never went platinum, they developed a devoted following of fans who affectionately referred to them as “The Mats” (shortened from “Placemats”…you had to be there), among them more than one veep candidate named Tim. (Coincidentally also the name of one of their greatest records.)

As we approach the 40th anniversary of their landmark album Let It Be, it seemed time to fire up the Celebrate the Catalog feature again after a period of rest to take a broad overview of The Replacements albums, from their punk origins to Paul Westerberg’s backdoor solo debut.

Note: When you buy something through our affiliate links, Treble receives a commission. All albums included are chosen by our editors and contributors.

Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out the Trash (1981)

Throughout most of their body of work, The Replacements are more punk in attitude than in sound. Paul Westerberg embraced more nuanced, melodic songwriting fairly early, and they proved they knew their way around a ballad. But Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out the Trash, their 1981 debut, is the rare moment in which they actually sound punk. It’s essentially a hardcore album in the vein of their neighbors in Hüsker Dü (whom they reference on “Something to Du”), and it’s one roaring, raucous two-minute ripper after another. Some of them are snotty and misanthropic (“Shutup,” “Customer”), some of them are taut and ferocious (“Takin’ a Ride”), and some even offer glimpses of where their songwriting would eventually lead (“Kick Your Door Down”). Last fall on the Treble Slack channel, we had a series of debates over the band’s peaks and nadirs, but I have to give a shout out to Langdon Hickman for reminding me how much this one smokes. Sorry Ma rips.

Rating: 9.1

Listen/Buy: Spotify | Amazon (vinyl)

Hootenanny (1983)

I find myself tempted to say “Nobody’s favorite Replacements album is Hootenanny.” But I know that’s not true. Because of course it is—it’s probably lots of folks’ favorite! And I’m sure they love it because it’s a mess. But it’s definitely a mess. Then again, such is the story of the band, at least in part. After the punk explosion of their debut, the group somehow both pushed forward and retreated back into goofball antics. The opening title track signals that this might be a pisstake Having Fun With the ‘Mats experience, but just two tracks later on “Color Me Impressed,” a newly sophisticated songwriting arises, the likes of which would come to form the whole of their next few albums. “Take Me Down to the Hospital” finds them roaring into rowdy punk rock mode again, and “Mr. Whirly” finds the group paying tribute to and/or making fun of The Beatles. And just when you think the earnestness has faded for good, in comes one of their first proper ballads, “Within Your Reach.” This kind of whiplash is part and parcel to the Replacements experience, and it’s never been quite as stark as it is here. The fuck-off songs wear out their welcome fast and the great songs are some of their best. That said, there’s not that many of the former, and Hootenanny more than lives up to its title. Yeah, it’s a mess. But sometimes it’s more fun that way.

Rating: 8.5

Listen: Spotify

Let It Be (1984)

For years, if you asked me what the best Replacements album was, I would have said Tim without hesitation. And I wouldn’t have been wrong per se—there are plenty of great arguments for that being the case, and I love the hell out of it. But the real answer is Let It Be. Here, the band solves the curious paradox of how to integrate smart-assed moments like “Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out” and “Gary’s Got a Boner” and a damn Kiss cover into what’s overall a more serious and brilliantly written album without the end result feeling jumbled in the way that Hootenanny does. That makes it a curious balance, but not quite miraculous. No, that comes with the rockabilly flavored mission statement in opener “I Will Dare,” and with the jazzy gender noncomformity of “Androgynous.” It’s in the brief moment of hardcore surge into piano and fingersnaps in “We’re Coming Out,” and the cathartic emotional purge of closing ballad “Answering Machine,” comprising just guitar and Westerberg’s strained vocals. To say nothing of “Unsatisfied,” an unfinished, largely improvised and, in Westerberg’s words, “half-assed” song that somehow ends up one of the greatest the band ever wrote. And while on paper it probably shouldn’t, all of it just works together brilliantly—one of the best half-hours of rock music ever put on tape.

Rating: 10.0

Listen/Buy: Spotify | Amazon (vinyl)

Tim (1985)

If Let It Be proved how much The Replacements could mature and expand their songwriting capabilities in just a couple years, Tim showed that there was room in the mainstream for the band. Sort of. To date none of their albums have been RIAA certified either gold or silver, and their Lorne-baiting SNL performance got them banned from the show. But Tim got the band on MTV—the memorable speaker-kicking video for “Bastards of Young” is one whose slow burn and climactic payoff is burned into my psyche. In fact, Tim is pretty much one great song after another (some will argue against “Dose of Thunder” or “Lay It Down Clown” but what’s a Replacements album without some sneering rockers?). “Bastards of Young” saw them deliver a disaffected rock anthem with wider appeal and a soaring chorus while “Kiss Me On the Bus” found Westerberg embracing a more tender approach with only the slightest smirk. “Swingin Party” cuts even deeper, traced with elements of country and jazz, while “Left of the Dial” is as earnest an ode to college radio as anyone’s ever written. Yet Tim also has the dubious distinction of being one of a few Replacements records where the mix did the album few favors, and Ed Stasium’s remixed version released on last year’s Let It Bleed edition reissue restores Tommy Stinson’s low end, beefs up Chris Mars’ drums and pares back the reverb. The songs are given room to breathe, and what was already great suddenly seems somehow better. Not that I wouldn’t have already considered this one of the band’s best, or simply one of the best rock albums by anyone for that matter, but the improved mix seals it.

Rating: 9.5 (Tim)/10.0 (Let It Bleed edition)

Listen/Buy: Spotify | Rough Trade (vinyl) | Amazon (Let It Bleed edition)

Pleased to Meet Me (1987)

When The Replacements began writing and recording their fifth album Pleased to Meet Me, guitarist Bob Stinson was still in the band, but the group kicked him out shortly thereafter because of his problems with drug and alcohol abuse. Stinson and Westerberg also had differences of opinion about the direction of the group, their former guitarist preferring the rowdier, more punk material, while Westerberg’s own songwriting was maturing away from the rawness of their earlier songs. As such, Pleased to Meet Me is technically their second major-label release for Sire, but it’s the first that really showcases a more pop-friendly polish, richer arrangements with horns and strings, and some subtler highlights like standout “Skyway.” That said, the rowdiness isn’t gone—they kick up some dust on “I.O.U.”, “Shooting Dirty Pool,” and one of my personal favorites, the sax-addled “I Don’t Know,” which features the line “One foot in the door/the other one in the gutter,” reflecting their unlikely brush with the mainstream (see also: the handshake cover art). But Pleased to Meet Me is, despite a little more polish, a front-to-back great set of songs, anchored by the singles “Alex Chilton” and “Can’t Hardly Wait,” which would unquestionably rank on any ‘Mats fan’s list of favorites.

Rating: 9.2

Listen: Spotify

Don’t Tell a Soul (1989)

Don’t Tell A Soul has long held the position of The Replacements’ worst album, at least according to supposed critical consensus. Though even that story isn’t as neatly wrapped as the lore would have you believe—reviews were more mixed than uniformly bad, and even curmudgeonly critic-legend Robert Christgau praised it. It is, however, a flawed album, if one that features a nuance-free made-for-radio mix that puts far too much of a slick sheen on the group’s scrappy rawness. And, naturally, some of the songs pale in comparison to their greater past moments; the rowdy rock ‘n’ roll of “I Won’t” is one of the band’s worst songs while the touch of funk on “Asking Me Lies” just doesn’t feel like it’s being played by the right band. But “I’ll Be You” was the band’s biggest hit for a reason, loaded with hooks and made for karaoke sing-alongs, while moments like “Talent Show” and “Achin’ to Be” are reminders of the strength of Paul Westerberg’s undeniable songwriting prowess, mix be damned. Not to mention glorious rockers like “Back to Back” and “We’ll Inherit the Earth.” That being said, the Dead Man’s Pop reissue from 2019 restored Matt Wallace’s original mix to sometimes subtle and sometimes revelatory effect. The once buried-in-the-mix banjo that closes out an even stronger “Talent Show” rises to the surface, while the still-not-great “I Won’t” nonetheless fares a lot better. And an excellent-if-imperfect moment like “Anywhere’s Better Than Here” becomes one of the album’s best when the arena-rock guitar riffs don’t hit quite as hard. It’s not that Dead Man’s Pop is a better album per se—they’re the same songs, after all. It’s that it allows the strength of these songs to shine as the gems they are—as Replacements songs, and not someone else’s vision of what they could be.

Rating: 8.7 (Don’t Tell a Soul)/9.2 (Dead Man’s Pop)

Listen/Buy: Spotify | Rough Trade (vinyl)

All Shook Down (1990)

Don’t Tell A Soul might have been the beginning of the end, but All Shook Down is where it very literally falls apart. Originally intended to be Paul Westerberg’s solo debut, All Shook Down became a Replacements album at the suggestion of management, though it’s essentially a ‘Mats album in name only. A number of songs feature only Westerberg’s vocals and guitar, and session players are featured throughout the album. Guitarist Slim Dunlap and bassist Tommy Stinson, along with drummer Chris Mars, are featured on the album, but not consistently. And the chemistry of the band just isn’t there—how can it be when there’s barely even a band to speak of? Yet even as a Westerberg solo album, it doesn’t have the same inspiration or energy of his actual solo albums in the years to come. While the album begins strongly enough with “Merry Go Round,” it’s not long before the rock songs start to feel like they’re going through the motions, and some of the acoustic material toward the tail end of the album sounds more like demos than finished songs. While very little here is a disaster, most of it isn’t particularly memorable either, closing their legacy with a shrug. Curiously, Tommy Stinson once declared it their best, which isn’t my take. But even if it doesn’t end on a high, you can’t help but marvel at the decade they had.

Rating: 7.0

Listen: Spotify

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