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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:

94. “I Should Have Known Better”

93. “I’m A Loser”

92. “All My Loving”

91. “Any Time At All”

90. “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”

89. “What You’re Doing”

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Sometimes a song can get a bit lost by the wayside, even in a catalog as finite as that of The Beatles. It took the Love project to reintroduce me to this gem from Beatles For Sale. On Love, “What You’re Doing” is included in a medley right alongside “Drive My Car,” and it practically pops right out of the speakers in that context.

It gave me a new appreciation for the song, which was only strengthened when I researched it for this list. Beginning with Ringo Starr’s thumping drums and then propelled by George Harrison’s Byrds-y guitar, “What You’re Doing” provides one of the rare early examples of Paul McCartney looking at a relationship with anything but rose-colored glasses. Here he grills his love about her reticence, albeit ever so politely: “Would it be too much/To ask of you/What you’re doing to me.”

This moodier side of Paul suits him well, and he builds up a nice case on his behalf in the song. I would have preferred he stayed away from easy rhymes like “crying” and “lying” throughout, but on the whole, this little number has a lot of bounce and life to it, so much so that I feel a bit foolish for having forgotten about it.

88. “I Need You”

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George Harrison may have realized that his first songwriting effort with The Beatles, 1963’s “Don’t Bother Me,” wasn’t quite up to snuff compared to the material that his bandmates were churning out. There’s no shame in an admission like that, since no one could really hold a candle to the Lennon/McCartney songbook at that time.

Two years passed before another Harrison composition found its way onto a Beatles album, and this time, George was ready. “I Need You,” from Help!, is a movingly direct plea to a wayward love. It’s also a confident piece of songwriting. Knowing George’s talent now, it’s easy to take the song for granted. But, coming on the heels of his strained first try, it was quite a leap.

It’s rare to hear George with his heart on his sleeve in this manner. He was apparently affected by being apart from Patti Boyd while filming Help!, although the song hints at more permanent problems than just a work-induced separation.

The distorted guitar sprinkled at the end of each line really punctuates the sadness inherent in the song. And it’s truly wrenching at the end when George intently repeats the title refrain, his voice seeming more desperate each time. By the time the song comes to its bittersweet conclusion, it leaves no doubt about its creator’s prodigious talent. Just like that, there was a new songwriter in Beatle town.

87. “You Can’t Do That”

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A jealous John Lennon dresses his down his overfriendly girlfriend in this track from A Hard Day’s Night. This song shows just how much The Beatles absorbed covering black artists on songs like “Money” and “Twist And Shout.” But Lennon’s blistering guitar solo is pure rock and roll chaos. John rarely played lead, but when he got the chance, he tended to be far more aggressive and raucous compared to the precision strikes preferred by Harrison.

The vocals are spectacular on every front. John pushes his lead vocal to the bluesy limit, his voice ignited by his passionate anger. And Paul and George answering his vocals is a brilliant touch. They’re like The Beatlettes. You can almost imagine them standing side-by-side with one hand on their hips, one arm outstretched with index fingers waving, all the while shaking their hips in time to Ringo’s unstoppable cowbell attack.

This one had all the makings of a hit single but was instead relegated to B-side status. Granted, it might have scared some of the more timid teenyboppers. But this grittier side of the smiling lads from Liverpool deserved a wider audience.

86. “I Will”

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Let me tell you a story. It’s one of the oldest stories in the book, really. Boy meets girl in high school. Boy and girl become friends, but boy begins falling for the girl. Girl tells boy that she doesn’t feel that way, asks boy if they can remain friends. Boy says OK, but then girl begins dating boy’s best friend. Boy is miserable and can’t even look at girl without wanting to curse, throw up, and storm away, in no particular order.

OK, maybe it’s not the oldest story in the book, but it seemed to be the oldest story in my book at the time (Working Title: “Jbev’s Road To Therapy”). Anyhow, in the midst of this particular romantic disaster, I was sitting at home one day wallowing in anger and misery. Feeling especially masochistic, I decided to put on a mix tape that this girl had made for me.

Even at 16, I was a budding musical snob. I figured by listening to the tripe that this girl considered profound, it would make me feel superior and render her meaningless in the process. It was a long shot, but I gave it a go.

The tape hissed on, and one-by-one, my plan began to work. The Indigo Girls: Lousy. Crosby, Stills, and Nash: Hippie nonsense. New Edition: Oh this was too good to be true. I was feeling good for the first time in weeks when the last song cued up, and I heard Paul McCartney’s familiar voice sing, “Who knows how long I’ve loved you?”, the start to “I Will.”

Moments after, a gigantic tear welled up in my eye and splashed down to the carpet. That was followed by more of its kind, until I was practically sobbing. Puddles were forming around my feet. I had no control over it; the music was twisting each tear free with every note.

When the song was over, that touching song of resolute love in the face of all obstacles, I realized that I wasn’t crying because I wasn’t ever going to be with this girl in a romantic way. I was crying because I missed the friend that she had become to me, and the reason we weren’t speaking no longer mattered. I forgave her right there, simply because, as illogical as it sounds, I believed that anyone who could like “I Will” enough to put it on a mix tape must have a good heart.

I went to school the next day and told her all was forgiven, never telling her why. We fell out of touch after high school, but I spoke to her recently out of the blue. There was no rancor, just good feelings and happy memories.

It’s a strange power that music can have. I witnessed it firsthand that day. The Beatles might have thought they were just writing simple pop songs, but they were indirectly molding character and shaping lives with every note. “I Will” might be just a little ditty less than two minutes long, only good enough for #86 on this list. Whatever. To me, I’ll remember it as being powerful enough to teach me forgiveness, one of the greatest gifts we can ever bestow or receive.

85. “Eight Days A Week”

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The Beatles seemed to add a little something different with every new song. In the case of “Eight Days A Week,” an otherwise basic song about devotion so complete that it takes an extra day on the calendar to express it, it was the fade-up. You can hear the chiming guitar first at a distance, but then it gets louder and higher while Paul’s bass rumbles along to the peak with it. Finally, the tension is released by John belting out that first line, “Ooh, I need your love, babe.” At that point you’re hooked.

The hand-claps leading up to the refrain also heighten the enthusiasm, and nobody sang this type of ebullient melody better than Lennon. Although there’s been some confusion as to who the main writer was on this song, I’m guessing McCartney on the verses, with their well-crafted symmetry, and Lennon on the bridge, which gets right to the point with little adornment but maximum emotion.

The title comes from one of Ringo’s off-hand remarks that seemed specifically designed to inspire Lennon and McCartney to write a hit single. The lyrics are so simple that they could be accused of banality, but, in the context of the song, I don’t see a problem with them. “Eight Days A Week” has energy and charm to spare, and it’s a cold heart that can resist it.