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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:

59. “Glass Onion”

58. “Hello Goodbye”

57. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”

56. “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)”

55. “Come Together”

54. “Help!”

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John Lennon described the period when he wrote the title track to The Beatles’ second film as his “fat Elvis period.” The sudden rush of fame had never quite sunk in and he still felt, for all his seeming bravado and confidence, like an insecure kid.

But that insecurity also steered him away from baring his emotions for the world to see. And so he couched his doubts and fears in a frenetic rush of a song that barely left one enough time to breathe while listening, let alone reflect on it.

Lennon later expressed regret that he didn’t perform the song in a slower version so that people could concentrate more on the lyrical content. You can get a taste for what this might have sounded like in the final verse, when all other instruments are briefly stripped away and John sings earnestly about his carefree days and how he longs for them.

I think that the faster tempo and poppy arrangement did him some favors though. Had the song been pruned to a folk confessional, it might have come off as a bit too “woe-is-me.” As it is, The Beatles created a song that could work on both levels: the insanely catchy #1 hit of a rock band at the peak of its powers on the surface and the cry for help of a confused and lonely man at the core.

53. “Helter Skelter”

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For all of his unforced geniality and his everlasting image as the “nice” Beatle, Paul McCartney is one competitive mofo. John Lennon is often credited as having the inner drive to push the band to reach the top of the charts, but it can be argued that it was McCartney’s perfectionism and relentlessness that helped keep them there. A huge music fan, he simply couldn’t abide being left behind by one of his peers. As such, many of Paul’s finest works were spurred by a response to something he had heard, as if he were picking up the gauntlet.

“Helter Skelter” came about after he read some press coverage concerning The Who and their new release at the time, which was supposed to be the loudest, most aggressive song in the history of the world, or some such hyperbole. Macca wasn’t about to let that stand, and since the White Album was in many ways a tribute to excess, here was the perfect fit for his new song.

Paul once described the song as the sound of the fall of the Roman Empire, and the visual image of The Beatles playing while Rome burns is a good way to wrap your head around this tumultuous track. Or at least imagine the studio on fire; the session was reportedly notorious for the group’s chemically-induced high spirits at the time.

Whatever works, I say. They walk the line of parody deftly without ever crossing over, even with all the fade-ups and fade-downs and Paul’s maniacal yelping of the lyrics. There is a ton of innuendo in the lyrics, but it doesn’t beat you over the head with its bluntness. It’s just simply four guys out to prove they could rock out harder than anyone else on the planet, and having a blast doing it.

I’m sure Ringo’s blisters have sufficiently healed, so the song likely didn’t come at too great an expense. Let’s just be thankful that Paul hadn’t stumbled upon an article about a band claiming to be the most authentic purveyors of reggae-tinged polka in the world. Come to think of it, the Fab 4 probably could have pulled that off too.

52. “I Feel Fine”

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You know that old word association game where someone says a word to you and you’re supposed to respond with the first thing that pops into your head. I think that if I were playing this game and someone said “Beatles” to me, the word that I would respond with is “joy.”

Now I can’t prove this to you because I’ve already ruined the exercise by contemplating about it, but my point is that the one thing that The Beatles did better than anyone else with their music was to evoke joy. Their songs sound joyful, and you feel joyous listening.

That’s not an easy thing for them to have pulled off. Many songwriters will tell you that the rawer emotions like sorrow or regret are easier to write about. Maybe it’s like a play on the old Tolstoy quote about families: all happy songs are happy in the same way while each sad song tells a unique story.

The Beatles bucked this maxim time and again, and “I Feel Fine” is one of the purest examples. The song exudes infinite goodwill and warm feelings without ever twisting your arm to get the job done. It’s very direct; it even uses simple words like “glad” and “fine” to get the point across.

I can’t put my finger on it really. Maybe it’s in the way those harmonies just beam with brilliance. Maybe it’s the accidental feedback at the start of the song or that unforgettable main riff conjured by John Lennon. Maybe it’s Lennon’s penetrating vocal or that little “oo-woo” he lets loose in the fade-out. It doesn’t really matter how. It’s just there.

That The Beatles could write so many happy songs and not have them sound like carbon copies of each other is a truly wondrous thing. Don’t bother trying to figure it out. But if you have a grin, prepare to involuntarily flash it while in the sway of “I Feel Fine.”

51. “Yesterday”

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I’ve had a bit of an up-and-down relationship with “Yesterday.” When I was a kid, it was the end-all, be-all of Beatles songs for me. I wasn’t allowed to touch my Dad’s turntable, so I must have had my poor mother re-cue the song about a zillion times on my copy of Greatest Hits 1962-66, the album that first spurred my lifelong love for the group.

As I grew to be a somewhat morose teenager, I began to drift away from the song. Part of it was discovering the rest of the band’s catalog; part of it was discovering music in general outside The Beatles; and part of it was intellectual snobbery. I just felt like the lyrics were pretty basic, and I thought that the song wasn’t representative of the more complex Beatles songs with which I had become enamored.

As a wise man once sang, “I was so much older than, I’m younger than that now.” In recent years as I’ve matured (although friends and family would debate that assessment), I’ve found myself gravitating back to the beauty of “Yesterday.” I’ve even forgiven the lyrics, choosing to see them as simple truths from the heart rather than the clichés and easy rhymes that I once considered them to be. And I can no longer deny the power of Paul McCartney’s vocal performance, which wisely never wavers from that heart-rending melody.

Lennon once complained that the lyrics don’t resolve, but that’s part of what makes “Yesterday” so beautifully sad. The girl doesn’t give a reason for her departure, nor does the man know if she’ll be back. He is forever trapped in his memories, and the song is all the more profound for leaving him there. George Martin’s orchestration, subtle and perfectly-timed, accents this condition, and the influence of the arrangement on countless subsequent ballads is immeasurable.

I can see where Paul is coming from. I wish I could go back, slap my younger self upside the head, and tell him to lighten up. But the rules of the game say that no one gets the chance to go back, and that’s the lovely quandary at the heart of this song.

50. “A Hard Day’s Night”

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Has there ever been a chord in the history of rock that caused more speculation and consternation than the one at the beginning of this #1 smash? I’ve seen it described in about 47 different ways. A few times I’ve sat down at a keyboard and picked out the notes based on some of these theories and still it’s never sounded right. My best guess is that there are a few instruments buried in the mix in addition to George’s guitar. Or he briefly grew some extra fingers after being bitten by an alien rodent of some sort, which in turn led to a brief period of fighting crime. Either explanation seems perfectly feasible.

Regardless of what it was, it was like a clarion call to the world that The Beatles were back, not only with another big hit, but also on the big screen. Indeed it’s hard to hear “A Hard Day’s Night” without picturing the four Beatles dashing hurriedly through the streets. That’s partly because of the famous opening scene of the movie, but also because the track itself is pure propulsion, an all-out sprint that doesn’t relent until that guitar arpeggio spins into the air like a helicopter rotor.

Ringo is responsible for the title; once again one of his malapropisms, a la “Tomorrow Never Knows” and “Eight Days A Week,” inspired a hit song. (Which begs the question: why didn’t Norm Crosby ever strap on a guitar?) John Lennon did the songwriting, graciously allowing Paul to sing the bridge because he couldn’t hit the high notes that he had written. Lennon does a marvelous job singing the rest though. The scream he lets out before the instrumental break is all harried frustration, a perfect fit for the theme of the song.

Lennon famously referred to the group’s itinerary as an endless series of hotel rooms and cars, and the strain of being on the road fuels his lyrics. He uses someone missing a significant other to make the song more relatable; it gets downright lascivious with the line “’Cause when I get you alone/You make me feel okay.”

So whatever that was at the start, there is no doubting what was there at the finish: “A Hard Day’s Night” is a soundtrack song that jumps from the screen to the radio and captivates long after the closing credits have rolled.

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