The 50 greatest Beatles songs of all time

49. “And I Love Her” (A Hard Day’s Night, 1964)

“And I Love Her” is one of Paul’s most heartfelt, tender vocal performances, backed by gentle acoustic strumming and scant percussion. Macca only has two-and-a-half minutes to express his undying love for a woman, and he minces no words over the course of three verses and a short, but effective, middle eight. George punctuates these verses with delicate arpeggios, and his tasteful acoustic solo cements his status as one of the most economical lead players of all time. Paul, on the other hand, would later build a reputation as a world-class balladeer; “And I Love Her” was his first homerun. —Bryan Rolli

48. “All You Need Is Love” (Magical Mystery Tour, 1967)

While so many of the Beatles’ early songs shine in their simplicity, “All You Need Is Love” excels by embracing complex instrumentals and multiple elemental structures. It encompasses various meters and musical excerpts (including the French national anthem, “Greensleeves,” and of course, the band’s own “She Loves You”), not to mention orchestral instruments from the string and brass sections. Lennon once conceded that “All You Need Is Love” was, of course, a propaganda song, but its motto remains one of timeless idealism. —Hilary Saunders

47. “We Can Work It Out” (Non-Album Single, 1966)

I had the 1 compilation on CD as a kid—it was my first CD ever, actually—and “We Can Work It Out” was tucked into the tracklist, between “Day Tripper” and “Paperback Writer.” I think back to pre-teen me, obsessed with the Beatles, fawning over this song. And now here I am, in adulthood, still fawning over this song. Not only is it better than its A-side, the head-bobbing “Day Tripper,” but it’s a rare 50-50 Lennon-McCartney composition. “We Can Work It Out” landed in the middle of the Vietnam War and greatly captured the post-JFK restlessness bubbling over in the States. Lennon’s harmonium provides one of my favorite instrumental passages in any Beatles song ever. —Matt Mitchell

46. “I Will” / “Julia” (The Beatles, 1968)

The final two tracks on side two of The Beatles go hand in hand with each other. You have “I Will,” a beautiful, brisk love song from McCartney, who plays lead acoustic guitar and performs “vocal bass,” as Lennon shakes a maraca and Starr pats on the bongos behind him. “If I ever saw you, I didn’t catch your name,” McCartney sings. “But it never really mattered, I will always feel the same.” “Julia” runs a smidge longer and finds Lennon singing about his mother, who passed away in 1958 when he was only a teenager. “Her hair of floating sky is shimmering,” he sings, “glimmering in the sun. Julia, Julia. Morning moon touch me, so I sing the song of love.” All of the gooey love songs wash away at this moment, as John becomes his most vulnerable and tender—honoring his mother by way of one double-tracked acoustic guitar and his own wounded, reflective vocals. Together, “I Will” and “Julia” are both some of Paul and John’s finest, barest work. On an album that was, for better or for worse, all over the place, in this two-part reflection, The Beatles is pulled into focus more than ever. —Matt Mitchell

45. “Penny Lane” (Magical Mystery Tour, 1967)

No Beatles song uses horns better than “Penny Lane.” David Mason’s piccolo trumpet solo—the first time the high-pitched instrument was used in pop music—is a thing of beauty by itself, but all the brass and winds give a joyful tinge to the nostalgic song about the actual street where John and Paul would change buses to visit each others’ houses as teens. —Josh Jackson

44. “Come Together” (Abbey Road, 1969)

“Come Together” is one of my least favorite songs of all time, but its importance in the Beatles’ career transcends my lack of enjoyment. It was a double A-side with George Harrison’s “Something,” rocketing to #1 upon its release in October 1969. After Lennon and his wife Yoko Ono protested the Vietnam War from their bed, he conceived what was initially meant to be a campaign song for wannabe California gubernatorial candidate Timothy Leary, the father of LSD, with the phrase “Come together, join the party!” included. But the “Come Together” we know spawned during the Abbey Road sessions, when Lennon ripped off Chuck Berry’s “You Can’t Catch Me” and turned it into one of the Beatles’ greatest blues licks. A lot of people have tried playing it since, like Aerosmith, Joe Cocker, and Eurythmics, but nobody can sing it like John Lennon. —Matt Mitchell

43. “Anna (Go to Him)” (Please Please Me, 1963)

The first few Beatles albums get far too overlooked now, because of how immaculate the run from Rubber Soul to Abbey Road was—which I understand! But, the early stuff is just incredible. The band was borrowing everything from bluesmen, doo-wop groups, and first-wave rock and rollers but still managed to come up with a sound that was addicting and commercial. Please Please Me is a great record, and “Anna (Go to Him)”—a then-not-so-old Arthur Alexander tune—sounds unbelievable. The core melody on the original 1962 recording was played by Floyd Cramer on piano, but Harrison phrases it on his guitar instead. And Lennon’s tortured vocal lends an especially crushing flavor to what is otherwise a charming pop number. “Anna (Go to Him)” should’ve been a throwaway cover song but immediately soars as one of the Beatles’ most emotional pre-Rubber Soul tracks. —Matt Mitchell

42. “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967)

Famously written by Lennon after his son Julian drew a picture in nursery school and named it “Lucy—in the sky with diamonds,” one of the most infamous “drug songs” of all time was more inspired by Alice in Wonderland than LSD, though the Beatles were no stranger to the lysergics in 1967. The song rules because the band recorded a treated Lowrey organ part and paired it with an Indian tambura drone. I mean, how many psychedelic rock songs are as psychedelic as this one? Elton John certainly thought it was good, recording a chart-topping version of his own in 1974. I quite fancy a world full of tangerine trees, marmalade skies, cellophane flowers of yellow and green, and a girl with the sun in her eyes. —Matt Mitchell

41. “I Feel Fine” (Non-Album Single, 1964)

The final #1 hit of 1964, “I Feel Fine” soared to the top of the charts on Boxing Day and remained there for the first two weeks of 1965. The track is primitive for its early use of feedback (caused by McCartney plucking the A string on his bass guitar and Lennon’s guitar leaning against McCartney’s amp) and, subjectively, I think it’s one of the Beatles’ most underrated hits. That opening riff is unmistakable, and it was inspired by Bobby Parker’s “Watch Your Step,” and Starr’s drumming was inspired by Ray Charles’s “What’d I Say.” By the time “I Feel Fine” came out, the Beatles were studio pros and taking big risks with their noise. While the Kinks and the Who had already applied feedback to their music in live settings, Lennon and McCartney were one of the first groups to usher that technique onto a vinyl pressing. They were so taken aback by what they’d found that they called it “voodoo.” It’d take a whole book to unpack the lineage of rock and roll bands that spawned out of “I Feel Fine.” —Matt Mitchell

40. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” (Help!, 1965)

I think “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” was the first non-Beatles #1 hit I ever listened to, thanks to an early appearance in the Help! film. It’s Lennon going full Dylan, diving into his self-reflective poetry while strumming a strophic line. “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” was unique when it came out because, well, there are no backing vocals on it! And it includes John Scott’s tenor and alto flutes, which make for quite a lovely outro—one of the band’s dreamiest. What the song is actually about remains a mystery, but many believe Lennon was talking about the decision to keep his marriage to Cynthia Powell a secret. One of his old Quarrymen bandmates, Pete Shotton, is credited for telling Lennon to add the “Hey!” bit to his refrain. Few songs capture a boy-bander growing up better than this one. —Matt Mitchell

39. “The Fool on the Hill” (Magical Mystery Tour, 1967)

My favorite Beatles song for ten years now, hearing “The Fool on the Hill” for the first time was a gooey revelation. It was a far-cry from the band’s rock and roll foundations, utilizing a trio of flutes, a mouth harp, bass harmonica, recorder, finger cymbals, penny whistle, classical guitars, and maracas instead of the usual roster of instruments. McCartney wrote the tune after discovering The Fool, a Dutch design collective named after a tarot card, and spending time with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi—hitting a D 6th chord over and over on the piano in his father’s Liverpool home. “The Fool on the Hill” is simple and it’s sentimental, never aching too far into abstraction. I don’t know who “the man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud” is, but I’d like to hear him say a thing or two. —Matt Mitchell

38. “Girl” (Rubber Soul, 1965)

Underrated in every iteration of the Beatles’ legacy, “Girl” anchors the second side of Rubber Soul before the sentimental portal of “In My Life” turns on. With Greek instrumental influences abound, “Girl” was Lennon’s response to McCartney’s side-one French ditty “Michelle.” Harrison’s capo use lends the song a bouzouki sound, and Lennon sucking in a breath through gritted teeth remains one of the more invented chorus techniques in the band’s catalogue. Lennon later commented that the “girl” in the song “turned out to be Yoko, in the end—the one that a lot of us were looking for.” —Matt Mitchell

37. “She Said She Said” (Revolver, 1966)

The cool part about Revolver is that the whole album could have ended up on this list. But you simply cannot have a “best Beatles songs” list without “She Said She Said,” one of my favorite things John Lennon ever wrote—Beatles, solo, or otherwise. The lyrics were inspired by an LSD trip the Beatles went on with the Byrds and Peter Fonda in 1965, and McCartney reportedly walked out on his bandmates during the recording (likely because his interests didn’t totally align with Lennon and Harrison’s LSD experimentation), which makes it one of the only Fab Four songs without the cute one involved at all. Obviously, for a Paul Girl like me, that’s devastating information—but “She Said She Said” remains incredible, with Harrison fluently taking over McCartney’s bass parts while still producing a bonkers lead guitar line. I’ve always loved Starr’s drumming on the track especially, because his cymbals wash over the melody with a certain, hypnotic brightness. —Matt Mitchell

36. “Martha My Dear” (The Beatles, 1968)

The best song about a sheepdog ever? Certainly. Not even three minutes long, “Martha My Dear” is practically a suite of music—briskly shifting through vignettes of marching band panache, a soothing waltz, saloon piano, and a quick dust-up with psychedelia—written in tribute to McCartney’s pup, Martha. It’s brassy pop-rock full of unexpected twists, recorded across two days by McCartney alone (except for the orchestra parts) in October 1968. George Martin was supposed to play the piano solo, but McCartney wouldn’t have it. Sometimes maligned alongside McCartney’s other playful ditties, “Martha My Dear” is an absolute hoot that deserves a mass re-evaluation. —Matt Mitchell

35. “A Hard Day’s Night” (A Hard Day’s Night, 1964)

The title track from the greatest music movie of all time and the album that sent the Beatles careening straight into a legacy they’d never lose command of, “A Hard Day’s Night” is recognizable from that first guitar strum of George Harrison’s Rickenbacker 360 12-string. It’s as important a note in the band’s history as the E major that concludes “A Day in the Life”—a fitting pair of bookends to the greatest creative stretch in rock and roll history. Jeremy Summerly called it “the most discussed pop opening of all time.” Ringo came up with the malaprop title and Lennon wrote the track in one night; the Fab Four gathered at Studio 2 in EMI Studios and, supposedly, recorded nine takes in three hours. Lennon lifted the “When I get home to you” line from a birthday card sent to his son Julian by a fan, and McCartney sings the “When I’m home, everything seems to be right” bridge because Lennon “couldn’t reach the notes.” “A Hard Day’s Night” would hold court at #1 for two weeks in August 1964 before getting unseated by Dean Martin. —Matt Mitchell

34. “Eleanor Rigby” (Revolver, 1966)

I once argued that “Eleanor Rigby” is the saddest song ever written. With the small chamber ensemble scratching their strings in quick staccato succession in a minor key, the two-and-a-half-minute song checks off many of the musical stereotypes that constitute what makes songs sad. But when McCartney starts telling the interwoven tale of Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie’s lonely souls, the song’s narrative begins to exacerbate the already anxiety-ridden instrumentals. While the verses ache in their specificity, the chorus delivers the most painful existential questions: “All the lonely people / Where do they all come from? All the lonely people / Where do they all belong?” —Hilary Saunders

33. “Baby It’s You” (Please Please Me, 1963)

Most of the time, the Beatles are at their best when singing their own songs. But hear me out on this. Their cover of the Shirelles’ “Baby It’s You” is an example of a British Invasion band covering an American doo-wop/R&B record correctly. It’s not a totally faithful cover, because the Beatles repeat the second verse instead of the first, but it’s totally perfect. Between Lennon’s strained vocal, his bandmates’ “sha-la-la” backing, Starr’s no-fuss kit work, and a very subtle but pretty celesta contribution from George Martin, “Baby It’s You” is the door prize from Please Please Me. It should’ve been a #1 hit in every country with a pop chart, but it settled for a #7 peak in the UK and hardly registered on the Hot 100 here in the States. A shame, really, because the world in this recording is the one I ache to live in most. —Matt Mitchell

32. “Paperback Writer” (Non-Album Single, 1966)

Released in between Rubber Soul and Revolver, “Paperback Writer” is one of the sharpest non-album singles Paul ever composed. It perfectly melds the quartet’s Beatlemania-era pop prowess and their psychedelic inclinations of the mid-1960s. It followed the incredible double A-side singles “Day Tripper” and “We Can Work It Out” but shone greatly on its own accord—and often brighter. Initially inspired by McCartney’s Aunt Lil, who challenged him to write a non-love song, “Paperback Writer” came to be after he saw Starr reading a book backstage. It’s a simple narrative, an author pleading his worth to a prospective publisher—but what turns it into an anthem is the unflinching, cosmic rock and roll arrangement. McCartney helms that incomparable opening riff, while Lennon shakes a beautiful tambourine in-sync with Starr’s robotic, precise drumming. They’d continue to build on these explosive, larger-than-life instrumentals on Revolver, but it’s hard to imagine that record sounds the way it does without the groundwork established on “Paperback Writer.” —Matt Mitchell

31. “Helter Skelter” (The Beatles, 1968)

No Beatles song rocks heavier than “Helter Skelter,” as McCartney’s frolicking pastoral comes out like a violent revolt. Disinterested in being cute or sappy anymore, he resisted his critics’ gripes and came to the studio with one of his toughest songs, which became an immediate reference point for how the Beatles were not just meticulous, compositional geniuses; from time to time, they could cut up the rug better than anyone else. Some say that heavy metal was created here. I’m not the authority on whether they’re right or wrong, but is there a more iconic song ending than Ringo shouting, “I got blisters on my fingers!”? —Matt Mitchell

30. “Help!” (Help!, 1965)

As far as title tracks go, I do think this is one of the very best ever—aside from, well, the other title track ranked higher on this list. “Help!” is musically a banger but its lyrics are quite crushing, as Lennon penned the song in response to the suffocating Beatlemania, even telling Playboy that it was him “subconsciously crying out for help.” No matter what, it’s the band at its most honest and playful, taking despondent, suffocating popularity and spinning it into this punchy, bouncing hit song fit with one of the greatest countermelodies I’ve ever heard, which McCartney completed at Lennon’s Weybridge home in April 1965. “Help!” is one of the greatest #1 hits ever. —Matt Mitchell

29. “Here, There and Everywhere” (Revolver, 1966)

The first Beatles LP I ever bought with my own money was Revolver. As it spun on my cheap turntable, I found myself mystified by the non-chart-toppers in the band’s catalog—most immensely “Here, There and Everywhere,” one of McCartney’s sweetest and greatest ballads. “There, running my hands through her hair,” he sings, “both of us thinking how good it can be.” With Lennon and Harrison spinning their backing harmonies into a bed of flowers for McCartney to collapse into, “Here, There and Everywhere” is a mystical collage of late-50s doo-wop, singer-songwriter and psych-pop. One of the many truths surrounding the Beatles is that McCartney’s songbook command was unlike anyone else’s across all of rock and roll. This Revolver benchmark is where he elected to take it to the stratosphere. But even that checkpoint feels understated. —Matt Mitchell

28. “She Loves You” (Non-Album Single, 1963)

The Beatles’ second #1 single of 1964, “She Loves You,” was one of the only slow-burn hits of their career. It was released in the States in September 1963 but didn’t soar to the top of the Hot 100 until March of the following year—unseating “I Want to Hold Your Hand” after a 7-week run at #1. The “yeah, yeah, yeah” refrain that we’ve come to associate with the Beatles, which Lennon implemented after hearing Elvis use it in “All Shook Up,” is alive here and delivered in one of the sweetest 3-part harmonies in music history. Lennon and McCartney began writing “She Loves You” while they were on tour with Roy Orbison and Gerry and the Pacemakers in the summer of 1963, with McCartney declaring that he and Lennon were inspired by the call-and-response of Bobby Rydell’s hit song “Forget Him.” The Beatles would make a few dozen songs better than this one, but it remains one of the most intoxicating pop-rock hits ever—and one that begins with the hook instead of a verse, no less. —Matt Mitchell

27. “Tomorrow Never Knows” (Revolver, 1966)

I thought I knew the Beatles pretty well. I had dubbed most of the later albums from my brother’s copies by the time I was 12. I knew all the early hits through constant play on oldies radio. I knew the trajectory from a boy band to psychedelic explorers and how it was analogous to culture in general throughout the 1960s. And then one day when I was 15 years old, I heard “Tomorrow Never Knows” for the first time in a friend’s car and immediately wondered if somebody had slipped me something. Even though the Theatre of Eternal Music was already squatting on single notes before Revolver came out, “Tomorrow Never Knows” was almost definitely most people’s first exposure to drone rock, with its (more or less) single-chord monotony, barely two-note bass line and stuttering drums. Toss in the whirring, chirping tape loops that wrapped around the song (which 19-year-old engineer Geoff Emerick accomplished by running Lennon’s voice through a rotating Leslie speaker), and lyrics that sound like Timothy Leary biting from The Tibetan Book of the Dead, and you’ve got an almost unthinkable turn from a band that at that point was still only two years removed from its Ed Sullivan debut. —Garrett Martin

26. “I Want to Hold Your Hand” (Non-Album Single, 1963)

I remember the exact moment I found the deeper meaning to “I Want To Hold Your Hand.” I sat in a London hotel room too fancy for two college freshmen to inhabit and babbled to my best friend about how electric the most common tactile gestures become when you fall in love. But even if this 1963 single should actually just be taken at face value, “I Want To Hold Your Hand” exemplifies the era’s joyful pop rock, noted by kitschy handclaps, a swinging backbeat and perfect Fab Four harmonies. —Hilary Saunders

25. “For No One” (Revolver, 1966)

Revolver is stoked in unparalleled genius. The five-song run at the center of it—“Here, There and Everywhere,” “Yellow Submarine,” “She Said She Said,” “Good Day Sunshine” and “And Your Bird Can Sing”—is one of the greatest five-song runs in all of rock and roll. But, many forget the track that arrives right after: “For No One.” At a runtime of 1:59, the song is not just one of McCartney’s toughest ballads; it’s one of the Beatles’ most pristine storytelling accomplishments—highlighting a romantic argument with no resolution. A godfatherly moment of baroque pop masterwork, “For No One” was written by McCartney while he was in the Swiss Alps with his then girlfriend Jane Asher. “And in her eyes, you see nothing / No sign of love behind the tears / Cried for no one / A love that should have lasted years” is one of the most heartbreaking choruses you’ll ever hear. Oh, and that French horn from Alan Civil? Pure poetry. —Matt Mitchell

24. “If I Fell” (A Hard Day’s Night, 1964)

The Beatles’ sophistication got teased slowly, beginning with A Hard Day’s Night. But as I’ve said before, the earworms featured on the band’s early albums are some of the greatest pop ideas ever captured. “If I Fell” features Lennon and McCartney’s double-tracked, co-lead vocals and Harrison’s 12-string guitar—a concoction that worked so often in the band’s catalogue but perhaps never better than right here. The song never caught on well in the States, fizzling out at #53 (it was a #1 hit in Norway, for some reason) because it was the B-side to “And I Love Her,” but I love it so much. It’s a proper sentimental ballad—the best inclusion on an album that many would consider to be the Beatles’ real masterpiece. —Matt Mitchell

23. “Let It Be” (Let It Be, 1970)

This simple song of acceptance emerged from the most tumultuous time in Beatles history—the fragmented sessions taking place throughout 1969 that preceded the band’s contentious breakup. Over just four chords in the remarkably normal key of C and a straightforward 4/4 rhythm, “Let It Be” manages to convey grace, unity and peace, even when John, Paul, George, and Ringo found themselves in times of trouble. Even with the irony, “Let It Be” remains one of the band’s most beloved tunes, a mantra for the disheartened and a symbolic song representing the Beatles’ storied career. —Hilary Saunders

22. “Across the Universe” (Let It Be, 1970)

I feel like “Across the Universe” was probably the moment where my grade school self thought for the first time, “Whoa, the Beatles are deep.” Obviously, Beatles fans who lived through the group’s discography knew that much, much earlier, but these were the simple revelations of a fourth or fifth-grader who was exposed to the Beatles music in no discernible or logical order, listening to songs from With the Beatles and Let it Be interchangeably. Regardless, I could immediately recognize “Across the Universe” as something different from the expertly crafted pop songs I’d heard before. Here was this beautifully poetic ballad, incorporating both the instrumentation and transcendental themes the band was immersing itself in at the time, and it all started with a bit of midnight inspiration from John Lennon. For as he told it, “Across the Universe” was just one of those poem-songs that poured out of him as if engaging in the process of “automatic writing”—a literal moment of “words flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup.” His prodigious songwriting talent was the sort of natural force that simply insisted upon itself, with songs like “Across the Universe” as the result. —Jim Vorel

21. “Oh! Darling” (Abbey Road, 1969)

Is “Oh! Darling” the first glam-rock song? I’m not at liberty to weigh in on that, but it is a deeply underrated cut from Abbey Road. Overshadowed by the #1 hits and the joke-y parts of the tracklist, “Oh! Darling” sounds like a great foreshadowing of Paul McCartney’s later sound with Wings. Saying that doesn’t necessarily scream “great Beatles song,” but all four members are present here (a rarity by 1969) and going absolutely gang-busters on one of the purest rock and roll compositions in the latter half of the band’s catalogue. It takes all of the things that made the Beatles’ early stuff good (excellent doo-wop harmonies, R&B grooves) and gives it an upgrade with pitch-perfect production, swampy guitar phrases, and a strained, nearly tattered vocal from McCartney that gives it a soulful grit. Lennon always thought he should have sung it, and maybe in another time he did sing it, but “Oh! Darling” succeeds, in my opinion, because of the places McCartney was able to take it. —Matt Mitchell

20. “Can’t Buy Me Love (A Hard Day’s Night, 1964)

The first single from A Hard Day’s Night to reach #1, “Can’t Buy Me Love” was Paul McCartney’s inaugural stroke of mad genius—an argument that his penchant for pop hooks was greater than John Lennon’s, but that’s a debate for another day. McCartney wrote the song on an upright piano in a Paris hotel, feeling the pressure of “I Want to Hold Your Hand”’s resounding chart success. It’s a 12-bar blues song, a formulaic approach the Beatles rarely ever used in their work, but it worked and became, in my opinion, the band’s best single from 1964—and the first song of theirs without the background harmonies that gave shape to their previous hits. The story goes that, until 1991, “Can’t Buy Me Love” had the biggest position jump in Hot 100 history, going from #27 to #1 in just one week. In the song’s second week at the top of the chart, the Beatles had 13 other songs on the Hot 100 beneath it. If anything, “Can’t Buy Me Love” is the pinnacle of one of the greatest commercial runs in pop music history. —Matt Mitchell

19. “Happiness Is a Warm Gun” (The Beatles, 1968)

The absurd lyrics, the overpowering cynicism, and the harsh tones segueing into a beautiful melody prove that “Happiness Is a Warm Gun” is unequivocally a John Lennon song. The title, which was lifted off an advertisement from an American publication, is so terrifying and borderline psychopathic that you can see its appeal to a subversive like him. “This is how the brain of man works,” Lennon seems to imply, and from that starting point, he wrote one of the boldest songs of its era. It builds and builds, with disturbing (and darkly funny) lines like “a soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the National Trust,” until finally, in a warm therapeutic splash, that wonderful chorus hits. It’s goosebump-inducing, and the really wild thing about this song is that there will be a part of you—the sensible, humanity-loving part—that really wishes those goosebumps hadn’t formed. —Shane Ryan

18. “Hey Jude” (Non-Album Single, 1968)

I don’t care who you are or what your story is—I know that, at some point or another, you’ve sung along to “Hey Jude.” It’s the ultimate participatory Beatles song (you don’t even have to know the words as long as you can remember “na na na na na na na”), and it stands as one of the all-time best. Penned for Julian Lennon to comfort him during his parents’ divorce, “Hey Jude” is the most-famous of McCartney’s masterworks—simple, melodic, yet structurally complex. It showcases everything in his arsenal, starting as a lovely ballad before that scream signals the beginning of rock’s greatest coda, four minutes of McCartney stretching his wings (no pun intended) vocally as he ad-libs over what almost feels like a mantra of sorts, the closest he ever got to “Hare Krishna.” It’s uplifting, reassuring and catchy, and we will all be singing along to it until the sun burns out. —Bonnie Stiernberg

17. “All I’ve Got to Do” (With the Beatles, 1963)

With the Beatles is full of great cover songs (“Please Mister Postman,” “Till There Was You,” “You Really Got a Hold On Me”) and one of the band’s poppiest numbers (“All My Loving”), but I am drawn, undoubtedly, to “All I’ve Got to Do”—a brilliant, doo-wop inspired pop song with bright and bejeweled guitar phrasings. Who knew John Lennon trying to be Smokey Robinson would sound as perfect as this? It’s for the Beatles what “Baby It’s You” was for the Shirelles, written by Lennon for American audiences, because “phones weren’t part of the English child’s life.” 14 takes and one overdub later, “All I’ve Got to Do” is, simply put, one of the most magical-sounding rock songs ever. The band rarely sounded sweeter than this. —Matt Mitchell

16. “I’m Only Sleeping” (Revolver, 1966)

The first pop recording to feature a… backwards lead guitar part? I mean, inventiveness aside, “I’m Only Sleeping” is a perfect song on a perfect album—a sleepy boy’s anthem, to be exact. There’s an old story about Lennon spending his time off tour sleeping, doing drugs, and watching television instead of going to his songwriting sessions with McCartney. A friend of Lennon’s even recalled: “He can sleep almost indefinitely, is probably the laziest person in England.” As a fan of the bedroom myself, I pledge my thanks to Lennon for writing “I’m Only Sleeping” and a couplet like “please don’t spoil my day, I’m miles away”—the rock and roll version of a hypnosis tape. If you listen closely, you can hear Lennon instruct McCartney to yawn before the second bridge, and Sir Paul obliges his bandmate. —Matt Mitchell

15. “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)” (Rubber Soul, 1965)

While Lennon and McCartney co-wrote this Rubber Soul standout, the relentlessly melodic, quietly melancholy tune is best remembered for Harrison’s singular sitar riff. “Norwegian Wood,” one of the band’s very first sitar experiments, is classic rock ‘n’ roll in its subject matter—casual sex—yet wildly inventive in its Far-East instrumentation and chorus-less song structure. It’s said that Bob Dylan’s “Fourth Time Around” was written as a love letter to “Norwegian Wood,” or a joke at its expense, depending on whom you ask. Only an iconoclast like Dylan would dare deny that this song is a dark and dreamlike pop classic, from its beautiful, oblique, John-penned opening lyric (“I once had a girl / Or should I say, she once had me”) to its final resonant note. —Scott Russell

14. “Yesterday” (Help!, 1965)

There is a reason that “Yesterday” is not only considered among the best Beatles songs, but also the best pop songs in history. The McCartney tune (that supposedly came to him in a dream) is the saddest of the sad breakup songs, but also has a sort of hopefulness about it that really makes you want to curl up under the covers and contemplate life. Legend has it that the rest of The Beatles, particularly Harrison, were ready to throttle McCartney during the production of Help!, where “Yesterday” appeared. McCartney took the inclusion in the film as an opportunity to continue to tinker with the song until he got it just right, and we’re glad he did. —Amy McCarthy

13. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” (The Beatles, 1968)

A great highlight from The Beatles, Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is a cry for universal love tracked with a deftly incendiary guitar solo from an uncredited Eric Clapton. Partially inspired by the band’s cohesion slowly eroding after a transcendental meditation retreat in India, Harrison took the psychedelia of “Within You Without You” and “Taxman” and plugged it into a heavenly blues rock joint that was built to last forever. If it weren’t for “Something,” “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” would remain Harrison’s greatest composition as a Beatle. “I don’t know why nobody told you how to unfold your love,” he opines. The song would kickstart a period in which he’d begin formulating many songs that would wind up on Abbey Road, Let It Be and his own solo record All Things Must Pass. —Matt Mitchell

12. “Two of Us” (Let It Be, 1970)

Let It Be has the unfortunate responsibility of being the last Beatles album ever released (even if it was recorded before Abbey Road), its incompleteness and individualist energy paralleling the band crumbling apart at the turn of the 1970s. Much of Let It Be is a wash, with a tracklist that just doesn’t stand the test of time like its predecessors. But, the parts of the album that work do so at seismic rates. Opening track “Two of Us” endures for how it has become an ode to Lennon and McCartney’s musical partnership. Of course, McCartney may have written it about him and Linda Eastman’s new marriage, but what the song symbolizes in the contemporary context of his and Lennon’s leadership speaks volumes. “You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out ahead,” McCartney sings across the bridge. It’s a subtle folk rock tune that puts the focus not on the band’s sonic craftsmanship, but on McCartney’s storytelling. From playing gigs as the Quarrymen in Liverpool to becoming the greatest recording act in the history of rock and roll, “Two of Us” is a proper, joyous bookend to a decade of love and success. —Matt Mitchell

11. “Blackbird” (The Beatles, 1968)

Inspired by both the ongoing Civil Rights Movement in the Southern United States and the literal presence of blackbirds in Rishikesh, India—where the Beatles were studying transcendental meditation—“Blackbird” is a shining moment on The Beatles that has been interpreted to fit almost any understanding of empowerment in the 50 years since its release. “You were only waiting for this moment to arrive,” McCartney sings, as birds chirp behind him. The only player on the tune is Paul himself, who performs acoustic guitar and taps his foot like a metronome across the two-minute runtime. While The Beatles could get cheeky and hunky dory at times, “Blackbird” is one of the album’s purest moments of maturity. Though the Beatles were fracturing greatly during its recording, the song remains a call for unity and strength that has transcended the era it was written in—all while still maintaining its original, urgent glow. —Matt Mitchell

10. “Ticket to Ride” (Help!, 1965)

This Lennon-penned song from Help! takes all the catchy pop elements of early Beatles songs and amps it up through Ringo Starr’s driving beats. It’s one of their heaviest pop songs, its upbeat melody contrasting with Lennon’s lament for an imminent break-up. The song’s tempo picks up even more for the coda, “My baby don’t care.” This is a more muscular and complex version of Beatles pop bliss. —Josh Jackson

9. “It’s All Too Much” (Yellow Submarine, 1969)

Of course, there are the obvious great George Harrison moments in the Beatles catalog—like “Here Comes the Sun,” While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and “Something”—but one of his finest (and funnest) works in the Fab Four came on the Yellow Submarine soundtrack. “It’s All Too Much,” a 6-minute (which was long for a Beatles cut) psychedelic journey is not just Harrison’s most-unsung creation with the band, but his most-daring. “All the world is birthday cake,” he sings, “so take a piece, but not too much.” “Penny Lane” trumpeter David Mason comes rushing in, as Lennon and Harrison trade lead guitar licks into an oblivion of chaos and joy. One of the few Beatles tracks that employs feedback, “It’s All Too Much” is a distorted, acid-rock benchmark that—unlike the meticulousness of Revolver and Sgt. Pepper—feels free and improvised and unlike anything else the quartet ever put to tape. —Matt Mitchell

8. “Sexy Sadie” (The Beatles, 1968)

Written during the Beatles’ retreat in India, most would consider “Sexy Sadie” to be a diss track—pointed at Maharishi Mahesh Yogi for making a move on Mia Farrow. In an early version of the song, Lennon calls Maharishi a twat and a cunt. The version we got on The Beatles was still just as biting and embittered, arriving as one of the band’s moodiest numbers, which can be heard over and over again in rock music, namely in Radiohead’s “Karma Police.” I’ll be a Paul Girl forever, but “Sexy Sadie” is undoubtedly one of the best, most well-rounded things Lennon ever wrote. And to hear his bandmates rally around him on the recording, especially McCartney and Harrison’s “la-la-la” harmonies, is serendipitous. —Matt Mitchell

7. “Abbey Road Medley” (Abbey Road, 1969)

It’s hard to overlook the medley of nine songs (eight, depending on how you feel about hidden tracks) that close out Abbey Road. Comprised of “You Never Give Me Your Money,” “Sun King,” “Mean Mr. Mustard,” “Polythene Pam,” “She Came In Through the Bathroom Window,” “Golden Slumbers,” “Carry That Weight,” “The End,” and “Your Majesty,” the 16-minute medley is the single greatest closing moment on an album across music history altogether. Knowing what we know—that Let It Be was recorded before Abbey Road—the fact that the Beatles opted to finish like this is biblical. McCartney and George Martin’s suite checks every box: the composition has endless replay value, showcases every member’s strengths, and is dynamically arranged into a twisting and turning, striking concerto of rock and roll royalty. The Abbey Road medley also has Ringo Starr’s only drum solo as a Beatle, a trio of guitar solos from McCartney, Lennon, and Harrison and, of course, that unignorable final line: “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.” —Matt Mitchell

6. “In My Life” (Rubber Soul, 1965)

Right smack in the middle of the ‘60s, the Beatles released Rubber Soul, and the album served as a bridge between their early pop and the more psychedelic sound that followed. It also marked a string of albums written solely by the band. “In My Life” was Lennon’s attempt to capture his childhood in the Northwest of England, though much of the original lyrics were reworked by McCartney. George Martin added a piano solo recorded an octave lower but sped up the tape to make it sound like a trippy harpsichord. The combination of pop melody, perfect harmonies and baroque solo helped ensure that millions of fans would be along for the more experimental second half of the band’s career. —Josh Jackson

5. “And Your Bird Can Sing” (Revolver, 1966)

As short as any punk song (2:01) and just as punchy, “And Your Bird Can Sing” bursts right out of the gate on Revolver, trundling ahead ebulliently on the wings of the dual lead guitar line played by Paul and George. The song was as bitter as any written by the Buzzcocks or the Jam, with John dangling the bullshit boasts of some acquaintance in front of them before cutting them right off at the knees with the reminder, “You don’t get me.” —Robert Ham

4. “Strawberry Fields Forever” (Magical Mystery Tour, 1967)

This is a song that understands the psychedelic experience, passing suddenly from blissful and lethargic to menacing, as the drums grow threatening and the strings ominous. Even today, the mellotron intro still sounds otherworldly, like some kind of paradimensional organ drifting into our universe and straight onto tape. Even though the lyrics are intentionally confused and vague, this song sounds wise, alternately light yet heavy as memory. A lot of psychedelic music sounds like a clown show today, like the worst, most indulgent impulses given free rein, but “Strawberry Fields Forever” is as powerful as ever, even without mentioning tape loops, a false ending or the “I buried Paul” theory. —Garrett Martin

3. “A Day in the Life” (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967)

The magic of The Beatles is that two men with very different aesthetics, John and Paul, somehow formed one of the most dynamic combinations in the history of rock and roll. “A Day in the Life” is the consummate example of how perfectly their collaboration could work when the elements mashed. The song starts with John’s reflections on the news of the day, tinged with his usual dark outlook. By itself, it’s no more than a melancholic mood piece, but then, after a sudden transition made from harsh glissandos, it changes into what sounds like a separate song—Paul, churning out one of the light, gorgeous melodies he seemed to summon at will. Again, it may have been insubstantial on its own, but the very English nostalgia is a perfect fit with Lennon’s moody discourse on the dingy present. As they move back for one last verse with John, the transition is made with him drifting off into a vocal daze, druggy and gorgeous, and it all leads to that long final chord, made from three pianos and a harmonium—the perfect, haunting end to the perfect song. —Shane Ryan

2. “Something” (Abbey Road, 1969)

George’s single greatest feat while in the Beatles came on Abbey Road, when he gave everyone “Something,” one of the prettiest love songs ever penned—if not the absolute prettiest. It’s a precious, thoughtful illustration of mythical romance. Who it’s about remains a mystery, as George denied writing it about his then wife Pattie Boyd, and some of his friends claimed he wrote it about the Hindu deity Krishna. Nevertheless, 150 musicians have covered it over the years—making it the second-most covered Beatles song after “Yesterday”—and Frank Sinatra called it “the greatest love song of the past 50 years” when it was released. “You’re asking me will my love grow,” George sings. “ I don’t know, I don’t know.” Abbey Road is, arguably, the greatest Beatles record, and “Something” is, arguably, its single greatest treasure. —Matt Mitchell

1. “She’s Leaving Home” (Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967)

The entire Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band tracklist could take up part of this ranking, that’s for certain. But, an undersung part of that album is McCartney’s “She’s Leaving Home,” a song that supposedly hurt George Martin’s heart—because McCartney employed Mike Leander for the string arrangement. Because it’s one of the only Beatles tracks where none of the members actually play an instrument, it’s a direct example of the complex, irreplicable compositionality that the band was working through at the time. In fact, Harrison and Starr aren’t even credited on the song at all (which would get more and more normal over the next two-and-a-half years; I’m looking at you, “Ballad of John and Yoko”). With a coterie of violins, violas, cellos, double bass, and harp, “She’s Leaving Home” is one of the most graceful, thoughtful and delicate songs ever put to tape, inspired by the true story of Melanie Coe running away from home. With McCartney’s floating, double-tracked falsetto and Lennon’s double-tracked, rythmic chorus, it’s a benchmark not just from a rock and roll standpoint but an orchestral one, as well. Lennon once played the tune for Brian Wilson and his wife Marilyn, and the Beach Boy had only this to say: “We both just cried. It was beautiful.” It’s hard to find praise greater than that. —Matt Mitchell