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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:

69. “It Won’t Be Long”

68. “I’ve Got A Feeling”

67. “When I’m Sixty-Four”

66. “The Long And Winding Road”

65. “Fixing A Hole”

64. “I’m So Tired”

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Beset by insomnia, John Lennon put all of that overtired energy into “I’m So Tired.” Just two years earlier, Lennon had defended his lethargy in “I’m Only Sleeping,” so quite a lot had changed. Then again, those tumultuous White Album sessions would probably have sent Rip Van Winkle scurrying to buy some extra-strength Nyquil.

Nothing, not cigarettes, not alcohol, can aid John in his plight. His weariness even manifests itself in an irrational animosity toward the Elizabethan statesman and poet Sir Walter Raleigh, who is dismissed in the song as a “such a stupid git.” Eventually John reveals the source of his sleeplessness to be the fact that he’s brooding over a separation from his love. John’s vocals betray his irritability at this situation. You can even hear sexual frustration in the rawer edges.

The music seems to stagger along but never stops, but John’s voice is pretty much center stage all the way. When he explodes with anger before settling into a sweet falsetto on the lines, “I wonder should I call you/But I know what you would do,” it is the song’s most thrilling moment.

The closing moments are also quite fine, as Lennon offers the world for “a little piece of mind” while trading off with Ringo’s ingenious fills. The song ends with John mumbling to himself, offering more fodder for crazy speculation. To me it sounds like the nonsensical gibberish of someone hovering in the nether region at the precipice of slumber, an area that this song inhabits with unsettling precision.

63. “Let It Be”

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It very easily could have been swallowed up by the ungainliness of the Let It Be project. After all, there are about 72 versions of the title track in circulation. You’ve got the single, the album version, the one used in the film, the one found on Anthology, the rap remix with Young Jeezy, etc., etc.

But “Let It Be” soldiers on with the help of the moving gospel piano and its timeless themes of perseverance and fortitude. Paul McCartney was inspired by a dream encounter he had with his mother, who had died of cancer when Paul was only 14 years old. Struggling with the pressure of trying to keep his band together, he located reserves of strength he didn’t know he had. It might not have saved the band, but it must have helped him to endure its dissolution.

What’s fascinating about the McCartney output from 1969 (on Let It Be and Abbey Road) is how much of it seems to deal directly with the state of The Beatles. It provides a fascinating running commentary on what was going on inside the group. The rest of the world might not have been privy to the strife among the four men, but close inspection of the lyrics might have given them a clue. McCartney’s skill as a songwriter was such that his songs, though based on specific and personal events, found universal resonance.

On “Let It Be,” the message seems to be that there is a point at which letting go is the best option, even though that prospect might seem painful. The way the singer delivers the lyrics with clear-eyed honesty, never overplaying the emotion, steers the song away from the sappiness that easily could have overwhelmed it. The repetitiveness of the refrain is another gospel trope, so it can be forgiven in this context.

The bottom line is that there is nothing too complicated about “Let It Be,” but complicating it only would have diffused the power of such a simple, yet profound message.

62. “Happiness Is A Warm Gun”

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Paul usually gets the credit for being the master arranger of the Fab 4, pushing the group’s songs well beyond the verse-chorus-bridge simplicities of most rock music. But on this twisting, turning, where-will-it-all-end-up track from, where else, the White Album, it’s John Lennon who does the whole mash-up thing, taking bits and bobs of several in-progress songs and creating a unique piece of work that defies characterization even as it bewitches listeners.

Let’s try to follow this thing. It starts with that familiar arpeggio riff that John was using so much at the time, before building to a clanging beat while he sings about a seemingly unattainable girl using surrealistic lyrics. Then things get bogged down intentionally in a grimy riff that seems barely able to stumble forward. Lennon sings about “needing a fix” in this part, removing any vagueness from this drug reference.

It’s at this point that the proceedings threaten to jump the rails, as Lennon goes into the whole Mother Superior part. But he’s earned enough listener goodwill by this point that we’re willing to follow him down any avenue, no matter how crazed. And that proves to be the right move, as the song opens up into a rapturous chorus, the skies clearing after the overcast nature of the first few sections. Lennon talk-sings like a preacher here, leaving no sexual overtone unturned. He finally ends in ecstatic falsetto, all the building tension of the earlier music released.

Let’s throw a bone to the band here too, because they stay right with all the shifts in mood with no audible strain. As always on songs like these, Ringo is the MVP for keeping things from collapsing with his unerringly steady hand.

Sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll, all with a little social commentary (the title was borrowed from a gun magazine article) added in to spice it up: “Happiness Is A Warm Gun” is the rare song that can surprise you even when you’ve heard it a thousand times. Give all credit to the esteemed conductor and composer, John Lennon.

61. “Lovely Rita”

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A meek Paul McCartney asks the girl who tickets him for a parking violation out for a chaste date, providing the storyline for “Lovely Rita.” Once again it’s a Sgt. Pepper’s track in which a relatively mundane experience is transformed by the otherworldly music that surrounds it.

The spirit of experimentation is alive and well here. The song begins with layered acoustic guitars that quickly disappear in favor of the chugging rhythm of the main part. A piano solo in the middle section is strictly ragtime, but what to say about the weird, squawking noises that punctuate some of the verses (created by The Beatles using combs and toilet paper)?

All of the musical quirks fit well with the state of mind of the guy in the song, who finds his life upended by a chance encounter. Listen to the way Paul keeps his main character super-polite, almost timid in the presence of his new crush (“May I inquire discreetly?”). If opposites attract, you can understand how this fellow would fall for such a powerful personality. If things work out, we know who’ll wear the pants in this family.

Even with all of the seemingly infinite invention of this song, it stays catchy thanks to McCartney’s deft touch. (The ingenious internal rhyme of “Lovely Rita, meter maid” is practically a hook in itself.) I’m not too confident about the future of the relationship between this stuttering sap and the strong-minded Rita. But at least they provided us with one memorable first date.

60. “I’m Down”

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The everlasting image associated with “I’m Down,” which was released as the B-side to the “Help” single, is the group’s performance of it in the historic Shea Stadium concert. While Paul desperately tries to keep things together, George helplessly cracks up watching John doing organ rolls with his elbow and falling to his knees in a loony Jerry Lee Lewis impersonation. It’s a tribute to their impressive musicianship that, despite John’s craziness and despite the ear-splitting screams of the teenagers, they still produced a killer performance.

It helped that the song, in its recorded version, is a pretty raucous number anyway. Paul wrote this one with live performances in mind, and it shows in the studio version, which trades polish for energy. The rhythm section provides the rumble as Paul yells out the lyrics in a clear homage to Little Richard. And, even in the official recording, Lennon’s organ is shambolic, hilarious, and perfectly appropriate.

This is one of the group’s last balls-out, no BS, 50’s-flavored rockers on record. Their next studio efforts would be the sessions for the more pensive Rubber Soul. “I’m Down” is one last tribute to old-fashioned rock and roll. In a short time, The Beatles would explode that type of music and recreate it in their own image. From then on, all other bands would be paying tribute to them.

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