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To most Beatles fans, choosing between the songs of the Fab 4 is a bit like choosing between children. But, on the JamsBio exclusive, Playing The Beatles Backward, one intrepid fan dares to rank the original songs of The Beatles and give his reasons why in a worst-to-first countdown. Check back each day for the next five songs on the list, prepare to hit the message boards to defend your favorites, and follow the countdown all the way to Number 1.

The complete list to date.

The Last Five:

154. “What Goes On”

153. “Flying”

152. “There’s A Place”

151. “Her Majesty”

150. “Do You Want To Know A Secret”

149. “Dig It”

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If there’s one specific matter about which you can criticize the late-era Beatles, lack of efficiency would have to be it. Their interests began to scatter away from what they really did best, which was make rock and roll. You could attribute this to the lack of a clear leader in the absence of Brian Epstein, or you could write it off as one of the many symptoms of the group breaking apart. But it led to a lot of time wasted with precious little to show for it in the end.

“Dig It” is a poster child for this wastrel behavior. There are all kinds of versions off this improvised jam circulating on various bootlegs, suggesting that the group worked awful hard on a song that eventually was hacked into a snippet of less than a minute on the official release of Let It Be in 1970.

It’s too bad, because that snippet does have some promise, with John Lennon having fun calling off the first names that pop into his head and Billy Preston working up a mid-60’s Dylan groove on the organ (hence Lennon’s refrain of “Like a Rolling Stone” as the song fades in.) But it’s over almost before it started, ending with Lennon’s jokey intro to “Let It Be.”

Whatever “Dig It” might have been or become is now just matter for idle speculation. But that would just be more time wasted on this fragment of a song.

148. “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”

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It clearly wins the Wile E. Coyote Memorial award for most conspicuous use of an anvil in a Beatles song. I’m not sure that would provide any consolation to John, George, and Ringo, who, post-Beatles, all spoke disdainfully about the miserable time they had recording this goofy McCartney composition. (Doesn’t it seem like it was always the weakest songs that caused the biggest rifts within the group?)

You can see the seeds of the worst tendencies of Paul’s early solo career here. “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” is a clear antecedent to songs like “Uncle Albert” that were overproduced and underwritten. That kind of approach leads to songs that are undeniably catchy but get stuck in your head for all the wrong reasons.

The truly bizarre thing about this song is the fact that the bouncy, ornate music (which finds the group dabbling in synthesizers, no less) accompanies a tale about a mass murderer. Maxwell Edison uses his hammer to dispatch just about everyone in the song, leaving a path of carnage that leads from medical school to the courtroom. (And what about the lax security in the courthouse, as Max is able to get up from the stand and drop the judge like a bad habit while everyone is watching? It’s like an episode of Boston Legal.)

All of these disparate elements add up to one of the true oddballs in the Beatles’ songbook, and it stands out even more amongst the relatively straightforward pleasures on Abbey Road. I guess this darn-near uncategorizable song must have seemed like a good idea at the time.

147. “Julia”

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When I embarked upon this list, I knew that I would rank some songs in places that would seem downright heretical to the Beatles faithful. I’m guessing that my estimation of “Julia,” or lack thereof, will likely ruffle a lot of feathers. But I maintain that this song is loved by people for what it is supposed to be, and not for what it is.

“Julia,” of course, is the name of John Lennon’s mother, with whom it can be said he had a complicated relationship up until her premature death when John was still only 17. And when you listen to “Julia,” you keep waiting for the kind of revelation that might provide some insight into the relationship and, in turn, insight into what made John tick. But that revelation never comes. The “Julia” in the song might as well be a water nymph considering all of the opaque poetry that describes her.

Lennon later said he was writing not just about his Mom in the song but also a little about Yoko (fodder for armchair psychiatrists everywhere). The song makes references to an “ocean child,” which is what Yoko means in Japanese. So you’ve got this amalgam of his lover and his mother to whom the song is addressed, and all of the descriptive images are abstract, as if this person never existed.

John even nicked from Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese poet whose work surged in popularity in the 60’s, for some of the lines. That’s all well and good, as even the best borrow. But on subject matter this personal, you would think that John could have dug deeply into his own reservoir of emotions for the words to say.

Just a few years later, after the Beatles’ break-up, John would write “Mother,” a searing testimonial to his feelings of abandonment and insecurity caused by the absence of his parents. Inspired by the primal-scream therapy he had undergone to unearth his childhood trauma, “Mother,” with its straightforward lyrics and spare instrumentation, proved more haunting than the spacey, dreamy “Julia” ever could.

Maybe Lennon needed that therapy to write the definitive song about his mother, a song that would express as much hurt as love. And maybe The Beatles weren’t the right platform for such a personal song (although it’s interesting to note that “Julia” is John’s one and only solo performance with the group). Whatever the case, the next time you listen to “Julia,” try to hear it again without the history in your mind. I suspect you’ll hear a weightless folk song about a spectral female, not an impassioned tribute to a lost parent.

146. “Day Tripper”

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One riff does not a classic song make. Nor do a few clever lines constitute a coherent idea. Hence, “Day Tripper” goes down as perhaps the weakest of all Beatles songs to reach No.1.

Mind you, that legendary guitar riff does carry this song a long way. It certainly provides a killer intro, one of the best in group history. But the riff is so great that the rest of the song, an innuendo-laced ode to those would dip their foot in the pool but not dive in, suffers by comparison.

Just what type of experimental pool the group is referencing here is a matter for debate. Some have speculated drugs, others sex (the lines about the girl being a “big teaser” would back this latter theory). The bottom line is that Lennon and McCartney churned this song out on the quick in need of a single, meaning that lyrical subtleties had to be sacrificed.

The group did manage to throw in a little “Twist And Shout”-style vocal crescendo just for good measure. But for all of the crash and bang on display here, there’s not much underneath. You can crank this one up to let off a little steam now and then, but there are other Beatles rockers that are far more effective. Indeed, like the girl in the song, it only takes us “half the way there.”

145. “Blue Jay Way”

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While staying in a rented house in Los Angeles and awaiting some late-arriving dinner guests who were likely having a hard time navigating L.A.’s notorious winding streets, a travel-weary George Harrison happened upon an old organ in the house and sat down to write a song. Hence, “Blue Jay Way” was born.

The tale is told in literal fashion by George, and, as such, it doesn’t resonate all that well. What can be said about “Blue Jay Way” is that it is a seriously spooky song. George also played the organ on the recording, giving the song a horror-movie vibe that is accentuated by a quivering cello, echoey effects on every instrument, the funereal beat kept by Ringo at the start of the song, and the background vocals in the latter part that sound like they’re being sung by someone who is simultaneously being garroted.

“Blue Jay Way,” with all of its aforementioned quirkiness, works as a pretty effective approximation of that nether region between waking and sleeping that one gets when extremely weary. Whatever the case, I’m guessing that George probably wasn’t very good company once his guests arrived that fateful night. From the soporific sound of the song he produced, they likely found him face down on a G chord.