by Stephen Thomas Erlewine 　　Two albums into their major-label contract and the Replacements had yet to have a hit -- they racked up some respectable sales but they were still a cult college band, never coming close to the Top Ten success R.E.M. had with Document. This lack of hits certainly weighed heavily on the band's label, which exerted a slightly heavier pressure than the chorus of fans and critics lamenting the group's lack of success, but all of this pressure from supporters and suits led the band to place a big bet on Don't Tell a Soul, a highly lacquered dilution of the 'Mats that is as misguided a crossover attempt as can be imagined. Matt Wallace's enormous, bottomless production -- as fathomless and dull as a muddy lake -- is merely a symptom of the illness that infected the Replacements during the making of Don't Tell a Soul, an illness that left the bandmembers with little sense of themselves. Blame for this can't be placed on the shoulders of Slim Dunlap, a Minneapolis rock fixture belatedly replacing Bob Stinson almost four years after his departure, as the guitarist is an easy, comfortable fit, lending nice country grace notes to ballads and goosing rockers with understated leads. So, does the blame for Don't Tell a Soul lay at the feet of Paul Westerberg? In part, yes, but not because the lead Replacement comes up with a set of substandard songs. Yes, a couple of his worse numbers are here -- none more egregious than the bewildering ham-fisted funk of "Asking Me Lies," and the muddled anthem "We'll Inherit the Earth" isn't far behind -- but so are a couple of his finest, including the lovely "Achin' to Be," the haunted "Rock 'n' Roll Ghost," the sweetly self-mythologizing "Talent Show," and "I'll Be You," whose urgency masks its melancholy. ...