Everyone knows that Bruce Springsteen can get serious with the best of them. The Boss' silly side is a little less obvious.

But songs 60-51 in the Ultimate Springsteen Countdown show it's not only there, but it's helped produce some of the most memorable songs of his long career. Two of the 10 tunes in this week's edition are light-hearted diddies that requires less thinking than a beach novel. This being Springsteen, there's also a deep track on one of the most notorious police shootings of our time, arguably the most controversial song of Springsteen's career.

And the week's edition closes with reflections on being a Bruce fanatic with a longtime girlfriend who couldn't care less about Springsteen. Yes, the countdown is getting personal.

Song 60: “Cover Me”

Album: Born In The U.S.A.

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For all of Bruce Springsteen’s love for obscure pop chestnuts that had little on their mind other than to get people’s heads bobbing and backsides swaying, he often couldn’t see the value in similar songs that he wrote himself. Hence, he very nearly gave this top 10 smash away to Donna Summer, only to hold onto it at the last minute at the persistent urging of famed music producer Jon Landau.

Miss Summer’s loss was the gain of every Springsteen fan that has had the pleasure of seeing the E Street Band tear into this song. That stuttering rhythm hits a primal nerve when you hear it. Max Weinberg rolls powerfully all over the bridge, clearing the way just long enough for Bruce’s famously desperate reading of the line, “I can hear the wild world blowing.”

At the end, Bruce is grunting maniacally and ripping at his guitar like a madman might rend his garments. All of that deranged force fits perfectly with the simple yet potent lyrics. A blast of adrenaline unlike most anything else in the band’s catalog, “Cover Me” topped out at No. 7 in the U.S. charts.

It's amazing that it almost ended up a B-side to “She Works Hard For The Money.” Then again, with a groove that sumptuous, this song would have worked anywhere.

Song 59: “Factory”
Album: Darkness On the Edge Of Town

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Just three years after providing one of the great documents of youth in all its glory and heartbreak on "Born To Run," Springsteen wrote a song that precisely nails the very adult drudgery of the working life. It’s as if he’s warning his youthful characters from songs past that their future might not be as bright as the highways they frequent seem to promise.

“Factory” is Springsteen’s most country-sounding song up to that point in his career, thanks to the tear-in-my-beer piano chords of Roy Bittan. Danny Federici provides a little bit of soul in the organ solo, but otherwise this track is firmly rooted in the sound of Nashville, which was a stark change-of-pace from the anthems of the past. Bruce needed a more lived-in sound for the world-weary subject matter, and this track trudges along like the men in the song through the factory gates.

The matter-of-fact lyrics, delivered in a passionless drone by Bruce, depict the daily routine of the working man as if he was the one on the conveyor belt: Get up at dawn, do your job, lose your hearing, eat lunch, quietly seethe in impotent rage, go home and get ready to do it all over again.

The only bit of speculation comes at the end: “And you just better believe, boy, somebody’s gonna get hurt tonight.”

So who’s going to get hurt exactly?

Maybe the wise guy who gives this weary worker a cross look in the tavern that night? Maybe the wife who doesn’t have dinner waiting on the table? Or maybe the young boy who dared to want something else from his life than, as Bruce would sing on “The River,” “to do like your Daddy done?”

And maybe that boy was even fiddling around with a guitar at the time? Bruce’s empathy for what would drive a man to such violence is what makes this song so effective. In turn, his understanding for the life his own father was forced to lead shows a young man willing to forgive even if he could never forget.

Song 58: “Nebraska”
Album: Nebraska

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I once read a criticism of Shakespeare’s work (Will In The World by Stephen Greenblatt, if you’re ambitious) that implied that his greatest contribution to drama as we now know it today was his discovery that, by removing key elements of the story that might explain characters' motives, he could hit much closer to home as far as the psychological truth of those characters, henceforth getting them to behave more like actual human beings.

I think Bruce Springsteen was on to something similar when he wrote “Nebraska,” his chilling retelling of the tale of mass murderer Charles Starkweather, who, with his teenage girlfriend in tow, killed 11 people in a 1958 spree. Bruce never tries to give this guy a motive, a brave choice that makes the song an almost unbearably powerful artistic statement.

Notice how even-keeled Springsteen keeps everything. The melody is lilting and gentle, and he sings in measured tones. He even addresses the listeners with an oh-so respectful “sir,” all while casually recounting his crimes. There are no excuses, no remorse. He just meets the girl, they go for a ride, and “10 innocent people died.”

Springsteen as Starkweather finally relents to the questioning of his motives with an icily, matter-of-fact line: “Well sir I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.” Billy Shakes couldn’t have said it better himself.

Song 57: "The Wrestler”
Album: Working On a Dream

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The Boss gets so far inside the head of Mickey Rourke’s character in the title track to the unlikely 2008 hit film that you’d swear he wrote the screenplay. Like the film, the song wouldn’t work if you couldn’t like this guy, warts and all. Rourke got it right on the screen, and Bruce gets it right on record.

Of course, this guy is also a train wreck, someone who constantly makes the wrong choices even as he’s given multiple shots at redemption. But he also has enough sense in him to know the wrong that he’s done, and his inability to forgive himself is heartbreaking. For all his ability to identify his mistakes, he cannot seem to avoid them.

And so, he embraces them with poignantly gentle nobility that belies his coarse exterior: “My only faith is in the broken bones and bruises I display.” Much was made in the press about how Rourke and his character were two sides of the same coin: Could-have-been-contenders given one last shot at the limelight.

In “The Wrestler", Springsteen provides a moving portrait of both the actor and his role.

Song 56: “Sherry Darling”
Album: The River

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So much fun it’s almost criminal, “Sherry Darling,” the second song on The River, quickly gave notice that the 1980 album would showcase new sides of Bruce Springsteen to the public, sides that he had shown often in live performance but rarely on record. In the case of this song, that side is the humorous, fun-loving screwball who can leave an audience in stitches with hilarious tales of addled characters.

Bruce is at war with his girlfriend’s mom in “Sherry Darling," bemoaning the fact that he has to cart her behind all over town. As this hag incessantly nags from the backseat, Bruce has to find a way to balance his love for the title girl while still keeping his sanity.

Dressed up in a quasi-Latin rhythm, the song sounds like a party thanks to some studio revelry that could rival the Beach Boys “Barbara Ann” in raucousness. Danny Federici’s organ squirts bright colors into every corner, and the surf-guitar solo is a perfect addition. The song just sounds like a place you would want to be, even if you have to deal with an unemployed, big-mouthed, even bigger-footed harpy while you’re there.

Song 55: “Ricky Wants a Man of Her Own”
Album: Tracks

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Would you believe that this was recorded in 1977, right around the time that Bruce was putting together "Darkness On The Edge Of Town?" Could you imagine this happy-go-lucky tune nestling cozily in between say, “Adam Raised A Cain” and “Streets Of Fire”? People would have thought that The Boss had developed multiple personalities.

But even though “Ricky” might not have the darkness, it’s still pretty great. The fun, '60s rock vibe is fueled by the two keyboardists. Danny Federici’s ballpark organ is bright and sassy, just like a precocious little sister ought to be. Meanwhile, Roy Bittan’s piano boogies just like the title character does in her bedroom to the chagrin of her harried parents.

There is a subtly touching tale of the bond between siblings to be found behind all the bright colors of the music. The narrator is clearly on the side of his sister, even as he’s a little worried about her antics himself.

Bruce's real-life sister would eventually inspire “The River,” a much more serious number, years later. Here, baby sis is a source of exasperation, but you get the feeling that big brother is giggling to himself at her actions while their parents pull out their hair.

Song 54: “American Skin (41 Shots)”
Album: Live in New York City

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From all accounts that I’ve read, Bruce gets the facts right in this song inspired by the death of Amadou Diallo, a 23-year-old Guinean immigrant who was shot and killed in 1999 by New York City police who misidentified him as a rape suspect and then fired when they thought he was reaching for gun. Diallo was actually going for his wallet, and the resulting furor stoked both racial tensions and anti-police sentiment in NYC.

I guess it’s not surprising the song caused controversy when Bruce started performing it live in 2000. Some New York police heard it as an attack against them, and they threatened boycotts of Bruce’s shows in the Big Apple.

A closer listen reveals that there isn’t much blame to be heard in the song. What I hear is incredulousness on Springsteen’s part that such a thing could happen, and a desperate plea on his behalf to prevent this kind of thing from occurring again.

Compare the song to some of Bob Dylan’s true-life inspired songs. You never have any doubt where Bob stands on the guilt of William Zantzinger or the innocence of Hurricane Carter. But there is no condemnation here.

In fact the name of the deceased is never mentioned. I think that Springsteen subtly acknowledges the difficult jobs that police have just as he admits the unfortunate dangers for those who might be targeted by the law even if they’re innocent. In the end, they share in this tragedy: “We’re baptized in these waters/And in each other’s blood.”

What it boils down to in a police/suspect situation is some sort of macabre guessing game:

“This is your life,” Springsteen sings, referencing an old game show to make his point about what a wrong answer could mean. The repetition of the “41 shots” (the amount of times the cops fired on Diallo) refrain assures that the listener won't forget the tragedy, and Bruce lets the crowd on Live In New York know the gravity of the situation by asking them for quiet at the beginning of the song.

The arrangement of the slow-burner recalls Bruce’s brilliant take on Jimmy Cliff’s “Trapped” that has become such a live staple, right down to the menacing synths.

On troubling issues like this one, it’s so refreshing to see one of our most popular artists risk a little controversy to weigh in on the subject. Even better is when they can address the topic in such a profound way. From Springsteen, we shouldn’t expect anything less.

Song 53: “Johnny 99”
Album: Nebraska

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The acoustic guitar riff in this classic seems to escalate throughout the song to mirror the chaos in the titular hero’s life. As Johnny 99 unravels before our very ears, the hyperspeed strumming and breathless harp-playing try desperately to keep up. Springsteen, playing the title role, hoots and hollers in wild abandon, his character completely free from all his worries now that he’s headed off to death.

Nebraska is filled with tales like this, of course, but “Johnny 99” is able to balance the dead-end tale with the crazed rockabilly music to create a cathartic yelp into the night. This guy has his hands tied by his financial doldrums, so he takes to desperate measures. He asks for no forgiveness, just some understanding as to why his life has come to his point.

Two more thoughts about this song. First, the line “And if you can take a man’s life for the thoughts that’s in his head” seems like a direct descendant of Dylan’s closing salvo from “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding”: “And if my thought dreams could be seen/They’d probably put my head in a guillotine.”

Second, it’s a good thing that the judge handed down the sentence he did and re-christened him Johnny. “The Ballad Of Ralph” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Song 52: "Wreck on the Highway”
Album: The River

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Taking a 1940s' country song and recasting it as one of the most unsettling numbers he’s ever performed, Bruce put "Wreck on the Highway” at the end of The River in an eerie bit of foreshadowing. After all, this song would have fit right at home on "Nebraska," Bruce’s follow-up two years later, considering its unhappy ending and spare music.

Just casting it as an acoustic guitar lament, though, would have robbed us of Danny Federici’s organ, which provides the seeds of doubt that drift into Springsteen’s straightforward gospel/country melody. It’s as if the Boss is calling for answers from above, and the answers are not forthcoming.

Many songs on The River deal with the things that come at us hard once youthful optimism starts to run dry. A sense of our mortality is probably near the top of that list, and the narrator comes face to face with it in the extreme situation of happening upon a car crash. Suddenly, the highway that sustained so many of Springsteen’s characters throughout the years is a destructive force.

The narrator ends the song unable to sleep, watching his “baby” (he doesn’t specify whether it’s his child or his wife, but it works either way) as if to try and savor every instant that he has to spend. It’s chillingly bleak, no doubt, but “Wreck On The Highway” gets its point across: It can all be taken away in an instant, so you best get your priorities right.

Song 51: “If I Should Fall Behind”
Album: Lucky Town

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Those of you who read my Beatles countdown know that my lovely girlfriend Marie has no use for the Fab 4, but she does like “In My Life.” Well, she doesn’t care too much for Bruce either, which doesn’t speak too well for her taste, does it? (Some would argue that she lacks taste in men as well, but that’s not for me to say.)

Anyway, she does admit that this is her favorite Springsteen song, and I can see why. “If I Should Fall Behind” is the rare love song that manages to be romantic without being unrealistic.

Every natural phenomenon that might have been utilized in other love songs as harbingers of happiness can be a negative here. The trees, scenic as they might be, cast shadows. The twilight, romanticized in song so many times, is a possible source of confusion as well.

And yet Bruce steadfastly stands his ground and asks that his lover do the same. To make it in such an unforgiving environment (“You and I know what this world can do”), two people have to be willing to see each other through not only the difficult times, but even through their own faults. Maybe this is what hits home for Marie, because she’s certainly seen me through enough of mine.

I have never heard a wedding vow so simple and moving as Bruce’s exhortation to his wife in the chorus: “I’ll wait for you/If I should fall behind/Wait for me.” It’s a promise and a request I make to my favorite non-Springsteen fan every single day of my life.

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