

Over the course of their eight-year existence, the Beatles released 27 studio albums, churning out LPs like Help, Rubber Soul, and Revolver within the space of a single year. Those albums were made up in part by some of the groupâs 237 original songs, and 20 of those songs went to No. 1 on the Billboard charts. Still, not every Beatles song shines brightly. Some are better than others, and after decades of nearly constant play on oldies radio, in commercials, on soundtracks, and in the general ether that surrounds each and every one of us, even the most diehard Beatles fans are bound to get tired of some cuts. Below, The A.V. Club runs through its list of Beatles songs weâll never skip, from âAll My Lovingâ to âYesterday.â Unlike in other A.V. To Z lists, not every letter is represented this time around, but we think thatâs okay.
A: âAll My Lovingâ (1963)
Paul McCartneyâs unaccompanied voice made The Beatlesâ first impression on America. Performing âAll My Lovingâ at the top of the bandâs Ed Sullivan debut, McCartney gave the audience a few beats of a cappella vocals before he and his bandmates kicked in with the songâs syncopated jangle. Itâs a neat trick on record, but an even neater trick on TV: A cheery love tune (like countless others performed on Sullivanâs stage) suddenly snapping into the sound that would dominate the airwaves through the end of the decade. âAll My Lovingâ wears The Beatlesâ influences on its sleeveâGeorge Harrisonâs chiming guitar solo echoing every country-and-western record to ever land on the Liverpool docksâbut it also points toward the sophistication of the groupâs later recordings. Holding down the walking bass line of âAll My Lovingâ while handling the lead vocals would make anyone want to retreat to the studio. [Erik Adams]
B: âBack In The U.S.S.R.â (1968)
Intended as a Beach Boys homage, âBack In The U.S.S.R.â also nods to The Beatlesâ early rock ânâ roll heroesânotably Chuck Berry, whose âBack In The U.S.A.â the title references. But understanding that isnât necessary to enjoy the song, which is one of The Beatlesâ best straight-up rockers, especially when the guitar starts squealing at the two-minute mark. Had the band been touring at the time, âBack In The U.S.S.R.â sounds like it would have been immensely fun to play liveâwhich is probably why it remains a staple of Paul McCartneyâs sets. [Kyle Ryan]
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C: âThe Continuing Story Of Bungalow Billâ (1968)
Itâs not always easy to identify what separates a great silly Beatles song from a not-so-great one, and at first glance, âBungalow Billâ would have all the earmarks of a skippable track. The song itself is a riff on a killer of wild animals, with a mocking sing-song refrain set on repeat and a serious tempo change that eliminates the easy nod-along pleasures of most pop. Also, it ends with whistling, a death knell for most good music. And yet somehow, it all works. The jaunty melody counterposed with the slowed-down, lurching pace of the narrative offsets the potential pitfall of each section, making the hearty cheers heartier and the melancholic acoustic guitar more potent. Itâs a classic example of opposing structures bringing out the best in one another, and it makes the song great, every time. [Alex McCown]
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D: âA Day In The Lifeâ (1967)
At this point, most of Sgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Bandâs âgreatest record ever madeâ luster has faded: Its iconic cover subjected to innumerable parodies, its tracks like âWith A Little Help From My Friendsâ and âLucy In The Sky With Diamondsâ covered into oblivion. But nothing sours âA Day In The Life.â The song refuses to believe in the tedium of its title, juxtaposing a highly publicized automotive fatality with a jobber nearly missing his bus. The song suggests that any day can be mundane or tragic, a climax or a denouement, with the noise of every other possibility bleeding together into 40-piece orchestral discord. And then thereâs that concluding chord, four pianos releasing the tension built up by the songâs signature din. Sgt. Pepperâs has been bested, but âA Day In The Lifeâ never will be. [Erik Adams]
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Runner up: âDear Prudenceâ (1968)
The second part of the one-two punch that opens The Beatles, âDear Prudenceâ is the moody successor to âBack In The U.S.S.R.â The pleading songâwritten to Mia Farrowâs sister Prudence, who was getting a little fanatical about meditation while she and The Beatles were in Indiaâsimmers and builds over the course of four minutes, anchored by Paul McCartneyâs noodling bass. Itâs a standout track on an album that has its share of them. [Kyle Ryan]
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E: âEleanor Rigbyâ (1966)
Hereâs a song both lyrically and compositionally striking, its super-sad lyrics highlighted by the sparse strings accompaniment. Reduced down to its elements, the song sounds like a disaster: violins, violas, and cellos replace guitars, bass, and drums; instead of the usual love song or anthem of a larger movement, the song dwells on the universal, timeless condition of devastating loneliness. Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie strike an emotional chord with their solitary toils, and The Beatles spin heartbreaking little stories with lines like how Eleanor Rigby âpicks up the rice at the church where a wedding has beenâ and Father McKenzie is âwriting the words of a sermon that no one will hear.â Itâs tragically sad, and itâs still a catchy pop song. [Caitlin PenzeyMoog]
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F: âFor No Oneâ (1966)
Hiding in plain sight in the middle of Revolverâs second sideâbetween the harmonizing Rickenbackers of âAnd Your Bird Can Singâ and the pill-pusher boogie of âDoctor Robertââis one of Paul McCartneyâs most heartbreaking compositions. Tracing the end of a romance along a descending chord progression, âFor No Oneâ is still and stylish, the finest sad-bastard anthem ever written for clavinet. McCartney earned his reputation as the good-time Beatle, but âFor No Oneâ finds him moping with the best of Lennonâs laments, looking backward and forward from his defeated perch, finding no probably cause for why âa love that should have lasted years,â well, didnât. Of the many Beatles covers performed by Elliott Smith, this was the one that best suited his style. [Erik Adams]
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G: âGet Backâ (1969)
I sang these lyrics as a preteen with no idea what they might mean, and to be honest, Iâm still unsure of whatâs going on. It doesnât really matter, though; the noodling guitar, the thumping beat, and the way the song meanders around all come together to make a weird, fun little song. John Lennon told Playboy in 1980 that every time Paul McCartney sang âGet back to where you once belongedâ heâd look at Yoko Ono, so maybe thatâs whatâs going on. The verses are still delightfully obtuse, which makes it one of the fun ones to sing along to, even if you donât know what it means. [Caitlin PenzeyMoog]
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H: âHey Judeâ (1968)
One of the all-time great codas in pop music, the ensuing decades have cost this Beatles track none of its affecting luster. The ode to Julian Lennon and strength in the face of adversity still packs a thunderous wallop, the kind of song thatâs perfect for sitting on a balcony, staring into the distance, and reflecting on life. That, or a killer tune to sing in the showerâit works equally well in either situation. People complain about a four-minute coda. Those people are wrong. It goes on so long, it passes through a looking-glass, becoming even more resonant in the process. It takes a lot to make a seven-minute pop song worthwhile, but to have it end up arguably one of the best songs ever? Thatâs something worth repeating. [Alex McCown]
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I: âIn My Lifeâ (1965)
âIn My Lifeâ is the perfect Beatles song for just about any type of fan: Itâs short and sweet, like the early, poppier years, but itâs also more sonically complex, like the hairier Beatles. (Relatively well-known fact: The solo that sounds like a harpsichord is actually a sped-up piano.) The lyric is completely relatableâalmost generically soâwith John Lennon waxing poetic about the very idea of remembering anything at all. But he brings it all around to âyou.â He loves you, and he wants you to know about it. Itâs hard to get tired of hearing that. [Josh Modell]
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Runner up: âIâm So Tiredâ (1968)
This short nod by John Lennon almost gets lost on The Beatles, but deserves another listen. It starts out with a torch-worthy lament that Peggy Lee could pull off (âIâm so tired / I havenât slept a winkâ). Then the guitar kicks it into high gear with a rock ânâ roll rant against the person whoâs keeping us awake; just as we groove into this throwback to the bandâs earliest days, the song drops down again. âIâm So Tiredâ offers some nice rage against insomnia, as well as that jerk youâre in love with. [Gwen Ihnat]
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J: âJuliaâ (1968)
Though itâs more or less a solo John Lennon joint, finger-picked guitar and all, âJuliaâ still embodies the Beatlesâ more sensitive side. Both Lennon and McCartney had lost their mothers rather unexpectedly when they were still in school, and while McCartney chose to commemorate his mother on âLet It Be,â âJuliaâ is a much more intimate track, and one that finds Lennon opening himself up to listeners like never before. With lines like âHalf of what I say is meaningless, but I say it just to reach you,â âJuliaâ is Lennon at his most exposed and least sarcastic. [Marah Eakin]
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K: âKomm Gib Mir Deine Handâ (1964)
The Beatles essentially went to rock ânâ roll college in Hamburg, Germany, so it makes sense that the group would re-record two of its songsââShe Loves Youâ and âI Want To Hold Your Handââin the countryâs mother tongue. âKomm Gib Mir Deine Handâ isnât a reinvention of the groupâs already existing hand-holding wheel, and some lyrics ring a little clunky when translated into the brusque-sounding language, but itâs a cute and fun spin all the same. [Marah Eakin]
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L: âLove Me Doâ (1964)
âLove Me Doâ was The Beatlesâ very first single, helping to kick off Beatlemania in 1964. This early effort was a true Lennon-McCartney collaboration, with a teenaged McCartney drafting the verse and chorus, and Lennon filling in the bridge. The deceptively simple track kicks off with Lennonâs bluesy harmonica, a tribute to the bands that were the ladsâ greatest influence. McCartney explained, âJohn expected to be in jail one day and heâd be the guy who played the harmonica,â and his spirited harp melody line carries the song, even as he deftly juggles harmonica and backing vocals. In his first recording session with the band, poor Ringo is reduced to only playing tambourine while a session drummer takes over the kit, but he makes the most of it, drowning out the drum set. Although released earlier, âLove Me Doâ became the fourth Beatles U.S. No. 1 out of six in 1964, a record that still stands for most No. 1s in a calendar year. [Gwen Ihnat]
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M: âMaxwellâs Silver Hammerâ (1969)
Abbey Road is approximately 50 percent novelty songs, which makes its artistic achievements all the more impressive. Appearing outside the confines of the side-two medley, âMaxwellâs Silver Hammerâ is the most fully realized of those trifles, a darkly comic music hall throwback about homicidal med student Maxwell Edison. Itâs a thoroughly ludicrous number, but one with a readily comprehensible story: Maxwell kills his girlfriend and his teacher, and when heâs made to answer for his crimes, knocks the judge off as well. But with a melody this catchy, what jury would ever convict him? (Maxwell earns a further pardon thanks to Steve Martinâs manic depiction of the character in the otherwise abominable Sgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Band movie.) [Erik Adams]
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N: âNowhere Manâ (1965)
One of the better tracks on Rubber Soul, âNowhere Manâ is one of the first Beatles songs not explicitly about love. That emotional withdrawal serves the band well, with âNowhere Manâ serving as the perfect blend of the groupâs pre-existing pop sensibilities and its newfound spirituality. Itâs still catchy, but itâs also perfect for the tumultuous mid-â60s, which the group pretty much perfectly defined with its Rubber Soul and Revolver LPs. [Marah Eakin]
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O: âOh! Darlingâ (1969)
The songs that hit closest to home are often the most honest ones. âOh! Darlingâ is among the most direct of The Beatlesâ catalog, with the first two verses a simple reaffirmation of love and a plea to stay together. What makes the song hit is how Paul McCartney goes from singing to emotive shouting in the third verse, where the lyrics move into distressing post-break up territory: âWhen you told me you didnât need me anymore / Well you know I nearly broke down and died.â His use of âOhâs, too, go from hitting a high note to plaintive wailing. Sometimes even the simplest words wonât do when a primal moan or a yelp gets the sentiment across. [Caitlin PenzeyMoog]
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P: âPaperback Writerâ (1966)
Though sometimes pegged as across-the-pond rivals, The Beatles and The Beach Boys had a mutual respect for one another and found inspiration in each otherâs music. âPaperback Writerâ is one of the more direct tips of the mop-top to the music of Brian Wilson, with a four-part harmony for a chorus that lovingly recalls the hook of âGood Vibrations.â Like the stockpiling vocals, each layer of the track offers its own compelling thread while blending together seamlessly. Itâs easy to get lost in the propulsive bass line, but then youâd be missing out on John and Georgeâs escalating âFrère Jacquesâ wails in the background of the second verse. A rollicking ditty about nothing more than someone trying to get a job from a publisher, âPaperback Writerâ is the most fun you could ever have with a cover letter. [Cameron Scheetz]
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R: âRocky Raccoonâ (1968)
Partaking of the proud tradition of the story-song, âRocky Raccoonâ is an example of McCartneyâs uncanny ability to borrow and toy with other musical tropes without the results feeling hacky or derivative. The story of a young man seeking revenge on the gentleman who ran off with his lady, it showcases Paulâs faux-Western accent, yet never once feels cheap or mocking. Thereâs something deeply powerful, even for us agnostics, about the fact that Rocky keeps heading to his room, before and after his ill-fated showdown, to have that Gideonâs Bible awaiting him. Itâs a little reminder of a different way of looking at things, something that the best music also doesâincluding this paean to a boy in the black mountain hills of Dakota. [Alex McCown]
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S: âSomethingâ (1969)
Where earlier Beatles love songs tell of a starry-eyed infatuation, âSomethingâ plays as a more mature, thoughtful declaration. This isnât just puppy love, itâs a realization that, âWhoa, this person means the world to me.â And, when that feeling sets in, where do you go from there? George Harrisonâs ponderous lyrics canât even begin to provide the answers, but that acceptance of the unknown and the willingness to give in to love are what make the track so timeless. Harrison gets a well-deserved vocal showcase on âSomething,â but heâs really sharing the spotlight with his guitar. From the opening chords to the iconic solo, it oozes with a voice all its own, putting the listener in a trance and drawing them in closer. A sexier Beatles song just doesnât exist. [Cameron Scheetz]
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Runner up: âShe Came In Through The Bathroom Windowâ (1969)
Of the many âsheâs in the Beatles catalog, the one who bows in the middle of the Abbey Road medley is the loveliest. âSheâ is more than just a hook, unlike âShe Loves Youâ; âSheâ shows a wider range of emotion than the maudlin Sgt. Pepperâs downer âSheâs Leaving Homeââand in almost half the time. âShe Came In Through The Bathroom Windowâ is a pocket-sized romance, suffused with âhe said, she saidâ intrigue (those days of the week are awful gossips) and ending in heartbreak. At least thatâs one interpretation: The lyrics are a lot of playful nonsense, yet their obliquenessâand the âooh-ahhâ harmoniesâtickle the imagination in a more satisfying manner than âShe Said She Said.â [Erik Adams]
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T: âTomorrow Never Knowsâ (1966)
Like its Sgt. Pepperâs equivalent, the final track on Revolver is one of the few ârevolutionaryâ Beatles tracks that lost none of its groundbreaking edge across the decades. Following Indian musical conventions and taking lyrical inspiration from The Psychedelic Experience, the tape-loop experiments on âTomorrow Never Knowsâ still sound like otherworldly broadcasts, propelled ever forward by Ringo Starrâs elementary, krautrock-before-there-was-krautrock beat. A song without precedent, it still succeeds in being a song, its experimentalism never taking priority over John Lennonâs rise-and-fall melody. Don Draper canât hear it, but thereâs songwriting genius buried in all that bad-trip cacophony. [Erik Adams]
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W: âWe Can Work It Outâ (1965)
âWe Can Work It Outâ works because itâs equal parts Paul McCartney and John Lennon in 1965, a time when that wasnât happening as frequently as when a slew of Lennon-McCartney singles came out in 1963. Besides the entrancing lyrics, it also gets a nice bit of help from George Harrisonâs suggestion to slow the middle down to 3/4 time, giving âLife is very short / Thereâs no time for fussing and fighting, my friendâ more emphasis and pushing that overall theme to the forefront. The jaunty tambourine throughout doesnât hurt either. [Becca James]
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Y: âYesterdayâ (1965)
When Paul McCartney is left to his own devices, sometimes we wind up with dreck like âBirthday,â and sometimes we get âYesterday,â the Guinness Book Of World Records holder for âmost-covered song.â âYesterdayâ is a perfect barely two-minute ode to a failed love, full of pain and remorse and longing, accompanied only by plaintive string instruments like guitar and violins. The solo McCartney song is all the more illogical when you learn that he created the melody first, so instead of âYesterday,â its working open was âScrambled eggs / Oh my baby how I love your legs.â In a radio interview, McCartney credited Lennon with eventually coming up with the title, leading to the true message of âYesterdayâ: Love can turn on a dime, just like this song. [Gwen Ihnat]
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