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For more than 35 years, Bruce Springsteen has set a standard of consistent excellence that few other rock and roll artists could ever hope to match. He has written so many great songs, as both a solo artist and with the E Street Band, that it would seem almost impossible to try and rank those classics one against another. And yet one fan was daring enough, or maybe foolhardy enough, to try. Following up our Beatles and Stones countdowns, JamsBio presents “No Retreat, No Surrender,” a worst-to-first countdown of every album cut in Springsteen history, plus a few choice outtakes, live classics, and soundtrack songs – that’s 200 tunes ranked and defended. Check out JamsBio.com each day as the countdown is gradually revealed, and prepare to hit the message boards to defend your favorites.

The complete list to date.

The Last Five:

15. “Atlantic City” (from Nebraska)

14. “The River” (from The River)

13. “Highway Patrolman” (from Nebraska)

12. “Bobby Jean” (from Born In The U.S.A.)

11. “For You” (from Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.)

10. “Independence Day”

From The River

LISTEN HERE

It’s the stuff of myth: The son who steps away from his father to fulfill his destiny. But it’s usually much messier than all that, fraught with emotions that build up over a lifetime and stay unresolved. The father sacrifices the years of his prime to difficult labor and is rewarded for it by being abandoned by the son; the son’s capacity to understand such sacrifices often arises only when it’s far too late for it to be properly communicated to the father.

All of these difficult feelings bubble to the surface on the staggeringly great “Independence Day,” a ballad by Bruce Springsteen included on 1980’s The River. We’ve delved plenty into his relationship with his father in this countdown, and all of those other references seem to coalesce here into this emotionally raw, brutally frank, and undeniably heartfelt track.

Set against a tender treatment by the E Street Band, which recedes into the background and lets Bruce’s lyrics and melody work their magic, “Independence Day” finds the roles reversed from what we normally expect. Here, the son is putting the father to bed. He is also saying goodbye, but not before he gets a few things off his chest.

The conversational style of the lyrics never stints on the psychological accuracy of this powerful moment. Some of the words toe the line of being hurtful, like when he insinuates that his father was weak for being crushed by his job, and that he wouldn’t allow that fate to befall him as well. But this is not just a farewell to one person. It’s a farewell to a whole way of life, as Bruce’s protagonist realizes that his father’s old-fashioned, simple world is fading fast.

Most painful of all, the realization that his dad’s devotion and obligation to him limited his opportunities in life ultimately elicits some sympathy and even remorse from the narrator: “Papa now I know the things you wanted that you could not say/But won’t you just say goodbye it’s Independence Day/I swear I never meant to take those things away.” Those are the final lines of the song, so it ends with forgiveness and understanding winning out over rebellion and rancor. With all of that water under the bridge, that might be the best this pair can do. Maybe not a happy ending, but one that feels true, which is in keeping with the rest of this beautiful song.

9. “Born In The U.S.A.”

From Born In The U.S.A.

LISTEN HERE

I was at a fireworks display over the 4th of July, and there, playing on the P.A. amidst the boom of the M-80’s and rat-a-tat of the multicolored mushrooms of spectacular colors, was “Born In The U.S.A.” Twenty five years after it gained a reputation as one of the most misconstrued songs in rock history, it was still being used to elicit pride in the stars and stripes.

My point is that I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Yes, the song is loaded with anger and disillusionment. But the song is so profound that it allows for pride to enter the picture as well.

Maybe if Bruce had kept the song in its original, Nebraska-style folk format, that wouldn’t be so. But he chose instead that stirring, downright patriotic rock background. Roy Bittan’s synthesizer riff that drives the song sounds like it could have been the brainchild of Souza. Even as Bruce’s lyrics remind you of all the mistakes that have been made, that riff keeps pulling your hand unwittingly toward your heart to pledge your allegiance.

I don’t see the music, which is also notable for Max Weinberg’s colossal drumming, as ironic so much as contrasting. The music and lyrics play to the dichotomy that Springsteen sees at the heart of America: The fact that a country that prides itself on its protection of liberty around the world has increasingly lost its way in terms of looking out for its own.

Anyone who thinks that the song is anti-American is missing the point just as much, if not more, than those who hear the song as a flag-waving anthem. What the song is determinedly against is the way that Vietnam veterans were treated upon their return home. After risking it all for their country, they often returned to scorn because of the way the tide of public sentiment had turned against the war. Their efforts to rebuild their lives were met with clichés from employers like “Son, if it were up to me.”

What’s worse is that the particular horrors of that war left these men in need of a grateful nation more than any soldiers in the country’s history. Instead, they were left alone to deal with their memories, which left men like the protagonist here with “nowhere to run, ain’t got nowhere to go.” And for what? A stalemate. Or, as this vet sings about a fallen comrade in contrast to the enemy: “They’re still there/He’s all gone.”

All of the outrage on display in no way mitigates this guy’s love of his country. When Bruce sings the chorus, there are elements of everything this guy feels hidden in his voice: confusion, fear, isolation, ire, and, yes, even pride. “Born In The U.S.A.” doesn’t expect you to stop loving this country of ours. It simply asks you to realize that experiencing all of those disparate emotions are a part of the bargain.

8. “Backstreets”

From Born to Run

LISTEN HERE

To me, Terry is a guy. I know that there’s a live version of the song in which Bruce indicates otherwise, but, in terms of the song as it was recorded on Born To Run, this song is about the deep friendship between two youths and how that friendship is eventually torn apart by both the harsh pressures of their environment and some momentous, unspecified event. That some of their exploits are described in romantic terms does not preclude this view, because these two young men have a bond as strong as any love affair.

Does it work with Terry as a girl too? Sure. It doesn’t really matter, though. What matters is that in the course of “one soft infested summer,” two lost souls briefly found an all-consuming camaraderie, “a love so hard and filled with defeat,” that it was destined to flame out. They traveled the symbolic titular avenues and briefly found a home, and, even after it all collapsed, they cling to the memory of that fleeting season as the only real truth in their lives.

But it wouldn’t be the song it is without one of the E Street Band’s most stunning performances. Roy Bittan’s piano is nothing short of majestic; the thrilling open was once likened by Greil Marcus to what the beginning of The Iliad might sound like. That’s just the start of Bittan’s efforts though; he seems to add another hook with every new line of music.

Max Weinberg also delivers his first signature performance with the band, relying on an unusual thumping beat that frames the song. Add in the precise guitar work of Bruce and Garry Tallent’s instinctively creative lines on bass and you start to realize that this momentous piece of music was made by just four men. It’s probably a good thing; if Bruce had figured out a way to work in Clarence’s sax, our collective heads might have exploded.

The song’s final few lines resound with all of the confusion and heartbreak that occur when the heady dreams of youth are thwarted: “And after all this time to find we’re just like all the rest/Stranded in the park and forced to confess/To hiding on the backstreets.” How good is Bruce Springsteen that he’s produced 7 songs better than this?

7. “Lost in the Flood”

From Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J.

LISTEN HERE

The Ragamuffin Gunner. Jimmy The Saint. Bronx’s best apostle. Upon a glance at these names, you might expect one of Springsteen’s ramshackle, benevolent tales of harmless spirits in the night. Instead, in “Lost In The Flood,” you get Bruce’s version of “Desolation Row,” a place from which few escape and ever fewer emerge unscathed.

Springsteen seems to be taking on the aimlessness of a whole generation by using these dead-end characters who lash out in random acts in vain attempts to prove their existence. The title is telling, because Bruce portrays the hopelessness of the world creates as a problem of Biblical proportions.

The first sound you hear on “Lost In The Flood” is thunder, signaling the storm to come as the ominous piano chords second that emotion. Much of the music on Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J. lags behind the lyrics, partly because the lyrics are so overwhelming, partly because some of the music is uninspired. But, for once, there is a perfect marriage of the two on this song. David Sancious delivers not only the piano but also the organ, which veers from wistfully distant to aggressively proggy. Vini Lopez gives his one of his best efforts with drums that show restraint in the verses before flaring up with rat-a-tat snares in the powerful refrains.

Springsteen’s narrator walks among the carnage like the last sane man, cautioning the characters about their exploits. The surreal imagery of the Gunner’s section gives way to the Saint’s flame-out, “a real highwayman’s farewell” that’s rendered no less senseless by its spectacular nature. In the final verse, all hell breaks loose, as a shoot-out takes place with no apparent motives. As the bodies fall, Springsteen relates it all like a war correspondent. And yet, at the end, an onlooker finds the mowing down of a character downright alluring: “Hey, man, did you see that?/His body hit the street with a beautiful thud.” Another future victim, no doubt.

“Lost In The Flood” creates such a vivid picture that it’s easy to get lost in its intricate detail and memorable characters. But it’s a cautionary tale, first and foremost, and it stands as one of the first recorded testaments to the genius of its creator.

6. “Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)”

From The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle

LISTEN HERE

When you think about it, “Rosalita” took some big-time stones. Here was Bruce Springsteen, before he’d ever succeeded on anything resembling a major level, taking a victory lap. It was as if he was going to try to transmit the powerful belief he had in himself out to his audience, and, in turn, they would believe in him right back.

And it worked. Granted, it took the massive success of the next album, Born To Run, to truly break Springsteen, but “Rosalita” has a lot to do with the way that his popularity sustained over the years, becoming the legendary closing song and unofficial poster child for Bruce’s amazing live performances.

The reason that Bruce crowing about getting a big record deal in the song doesn’t seem like braggadocio is because his built-in charm has you rooting for him all the way. The character he’s created is hard to deny, as nothing will stop him from his appointed rounds with his girl, neither car troubles, nor Rosie’s reticence, nor, most daunting of all, a pair of overprotective and disapproving parents.

He’s quite the sweet talker here, not afraid to get a little bit risqué (“The only lover I’m ever gonna need is your soft, sweet little girl’s tongue”), able to lay on a few ten-cent words (“I’m coming to liberate you, confiscate you”), but most of all unwavering in his persistence. You get the feeling that even the National Guard couldn’t keep this guy away.

Bruce also went all-out with the music, constructing the kind of daring show-stopper that was guaranteed to bring down the house even if you were listening in your living room. He utilized the unique talents of Clarence Clemons brilliantly, keeping him at the forefront most of the way. The arrangement toys with the tempo, freely skirts different styles of music (at times it’s a soulful rave-up, at times it’s a flamenco, and at times it’s grinding rock ‘n’ roll, propelled by Bruce’s reckless guitar), but never loses the forward momentum that mirrors the main character.

And let’s not forget Bruce’s breathless vocal. I dare you to try to sing along in the car radio; you’ll be gasping for air and your vocal cords will be strained past the limit. Everything just coheres here in a way that few magnum opuses ever do. By song’s end, Bruce may not yet have Rosalita, but he’s got whoever’s listening in the audience for good.

The complete list to date.

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