Well, here we are, folks. This mighty undertaking — ranking the Top 100 songs of Tom Petty's career in the Ultimate Countdown — has been a true joy for me because it has given me the excuse to really dive into this amazing catalog of music. While you all may not agree with my rankings, it’s hard to argue with the consistency Tom Petty’s songwriting and recording output.

Ranking these songs was not a matter of bad versus good; more like good versus great versus holy-crap-that’s-an–amazing song.

With Tom Petty having blown through the Woodlands this weekend, here's the Top 10 to tide you over. This list is not meant just for debate fodder, but also as a celebration of one of rock 'n’roll’s singular artists.

 
 Song 10: “Don’t Come Around Here No More”
Album: Southern Accents

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Tom Petty was a little frustrated at the stagnancy that he felt had crept into the band’s sound on their fourth album, 1983’s Get Lucky. He channeled that frustration into the fountain of creativity that led to this one-of-a-kind single. “Don’t Come Around Here No More” was proof to any skeptics that doubted that the Heartbreakers could do anything besides straight-ahead rock ‘n’ roll. Moreover, the memorable video brought the band to a younger group of fans and helped ensure that their popularity wouldn’t be waning anytime soon.
 
Dave Stewart was Petty’s simpatico collaborator on this madcap tour de force, and his spirit of experimentation inspired Petty to make some very un-Petty-like choices. For example, there’s the sampled drum pattern that repeats throughout the song, which, combined with that mystical sitar that seems to endlessly feedback onto itself for a wash of head-spinning sound, creates the oddest rhythm bed you’ve ever heard.
 
But that wasn’t all of the insanity running rampant with this song. Stewart also sent the track to a bass player (Dean Garcia) whose work was completely unusable save for the quirky little bit that kicks the song into gear. Female backing vocalists were brought in to give some counterpoint to Petty’s rejoinders, and Stewart allegedly ran into the control room with his pants down in an effort to get one (Stephanie Spruill) to hit that high note that kicks off the harder-rocking section at the song’s end.
 
It’s as if Petty included that section to remind everyone that the Heartbreakers were still very much a force, and, thanks to the contrast of all the weirdness before, that section rocks righteously indeed. TP also fully invests himself in the role he’s playing here in a performance that’s reminiscent of some of Mick Jagger’s memorable cads from the Stones’ catalog.
 
Petty has stated in interviews that he regrets the video somewhat because he feels like no one can hear “Don’t Come Around Here No More” now without imagining Alice In Wonderland. I disagree. At least when I hear it, I don’t picture Petty in a goofy hat. I hear a vibrant, slightly-daft, never-dull, whirlwind of a single that reinvigorated a career.
 
 Song 9: “Swingin’”
Album: Echo

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I’ve always thought of this song as a companion piece to “American Girl.” Not so much a sequel, but a re-imagining of the story almost 25 years after it was first told. The open spaces suggested by the first song’s ringing guitars are replaced by the minor keys and crunching riffs of “Swingin’.” When this girl says that she’s free, the music suggests otherwise.
 
The situations in which the heroine finds herself are wholly unromantic, from shenanigans in Vegas to hitched rides with strangers. There is little to suggest any kind of happy ending will take place here. And yet, Petty, as always, has admiration for characters that find themselves at a rough point and yet refuse to give in to their situations. This girl achieves a hollow victory when she makes her escape, but it’s a victory nonetheless.
 
The Heartbreakers really cop some swagger on this tune off Echo, locking into the groove but never so tight that the song doesn’t, well, swing. Petty’s vocal is also recorded in a very raw fashion, making it sound like he’s hollering above the band without a mike, a powerful effect. The inspired decision to include boxer Sonny Liston at the end of his roll call of his swing musicians indicates that this girl was always more of a fighter than a lover.
 
Throw in the fantastic backing vocals from Howie Epstein, which add a soulful vibe to the proceedings, and you’ve got a lot to chew. Petty might have been a bit jaded about the prospects of an American Girl circa the turn of the millennium. But “Swingin” is evidence that he believes that resilience is a quality that never goes out of style.
 
 Song 8: “Here Comes My Girl”
Album: Damn the Torpedoes

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They say that the third album is the one where you supposed to make your jump, and the Heartbreakers adhered to that formula with Damn the Torpedoes. Not that there was anything wrong with the first two albums, but they can seem downright primitive compared to the breadth and scope of the songs on Torpedoes. Add to that the fact that the band was becoming professional in the studio, and it was a perfect storm.
 
“Here Comes My Girl” may be the ultimate example of the kind of thing that the Heartbreakers were suddenly capable of doing. It was made possible by the burgeoning songwriting talents of Mike Campbell, who had pretty much the entire arrangement all down on tape when he handed it over to Petty for lyrics.
 
The band had to bring the arrangement to life though, and they really show their cohesion here. Notice how they leave open spaces for the music to breathe, allowing for their individual flourishes to make maximum impact. Petty's and Campbell’s interplay on rhythm and lead guitar displays great chemistry, and then Benmont Tench comes sweeping into the refrain to add some different colors to the mix. Ron Blair skids along subtly on bass, while Stan Lynch powers the song with a beat that seems to get stronger as the song goes on.
 
Petty’s vocal is endlessly inspired. He talk-sings through the verses as he describes the disappointments of his day, but then he rises to a shout to describe how his girl soothes his aching soul. In the refrain, he goes into a smooth, multi-tracked croon, yielding one of the Byrdsiest moments in the band’s history.
 
This is music that’s stunningly assured and accomplished, coming from a band that was really less than a half-decade old. Yes, a lot of bands do make that third-album leap, but few have leapt quite so proficiently and powerfully as this one.
 
 Song 7: “Learning To Fly”
Album: Into the Great Wide Open

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Petty took his inspiration for this crackerjack opening song on Into the Great Wide Open from something a pilot once told him about flying. From those few words he created a song that creates inspiration for anyone who hears it.
 
It’s one of those universal songs that can not only mean something different to each person, but it can also mean different things to the same person at different times in their lives. When the problems of the world feel downright Biblical in proportion (“And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn”), we still all have the capability to survive and even thrive if we want it bad enough, if we take the chance to fail.
 
Of course, that all sounds better through Petty’s brief but telling lyrics as accompanied by the Heartbreakers at their most mid-tempo elegant. The warmth of the performance is undeniable, caressing the listener through troubling times. In contrast to that, the guitar-and-drum breakdown is a cathartic jolt of energy at song’s end, Stan Lynch’s snares popping off like fireworks in the night sky.
 
Whatever message you may take from “Learning To Fly,” it’s impossible to deny the sublime manner in which it was delivered. Coming down definitely is difficult, especially after listening to music that can get you so high.
 
 Song 6: “Walls (Circus)”
Album: Songs and Music from the Motion Picture She's The One

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If I asked you which Fleetwood Mac member made the greatest contribution to Petty’s recording career, you might answer Stevie Nicks in a heartbeat, and it would be hard to argue against that since she popped up several times and the two sang a duet that was a major hit. But what if I told you that Lindsey Buckingham ran a closer second in this race than you might think?
 
You see, it’s Buckingham who arranged and sang the endlessly fascinating layers of backing vocals that make this version of “Walls” so special, elevating a great song into a spectacular one. Since this version is subtitled “Circus,” Buckingham fittingly creates the aural equivalent of a Hall of Mirrors, his voice seconding Petty’s admonitions in skewed proportions at seemingly impossible angles to a reticent girl. One can imagine her, at the center of this barrage, finally grasping the full magnitude of what she has lost.
 
And it is ultimately a loss, as hinted by Petty’s final set of opposites in his brilliantly conceived lyrics: “Part of me you carry/Part of me is gone.” It’s a tough position to be in when you’re apologizing for someone else’s mistakes, but TP never shows anger or disdain for this girl’s standoffishness; he simply gives her all the evidence he can so that she might see the unseen hurt that such a stance can produce.
 
Some might prefer the quieter charms of “Walls (No. 3),” but, to me, the huge production here is necessary to thaw this frozen heart. I saw it once, but I honestly can’t remember too much about She’s the One, the Ed Burns movie to which Petty granted this song. But if for no other reason than it inspired this magnificent effort, well, then that long-forgotten flick certainly served its purpose.
 
 Song 5: “Insider”
Album: Hard Promises

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The story behind this song is that Petty wrote it with the intention of giving it to Stevie Nicks, then thought it too good to let go. Nicks understood and agreed to sing back-up on “Insider.” Petty eventually gave her “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around,” which the two rode all the way to the bank, and all was right with the world, right?
 
Well, not quite, because, while there’s no doubting that “Stop Draggin’” is a great song, “Insider” is not just better, but is one of the best songs that Petty has ever written. And yet it remains largely unheard, tucked away quietly on Side 2 of Hard Promises. I’m begging you, casual TP fans, look this song up, and you’ll be as floored as I was when I discovered it upon purchasing the CD many years ago.
 
First of all, it is a tender band performance, featuring what may be Benmont Tench’s finest moments with the Heartbreakers. His organ propels the music in the verse, riding over the acoustic guitar and hitting all of the right emotional notes without ever overdoing it. His pounding piano in the wordless bridge is more elemental, as he bashes way in conjunction with the frustration of the narrator.
 
Next there is the stunningly great duet that Petty and Nicks perform here. On “Stop Draggin,” it was more of a he said/she said vibe, but here, they’re on the same team. As Petty woefully tells his tale yet keeps his emotions on a low boil, Nicks acts as his id, letting loose with all of the pain he’s proud to show.
 
Above all, it’s a wonderful song, with music that sighs and then surges as each new wound rises to the surface, and lyrics that nail the plight of someone whose vision of a perfect love is ultimately betrayed. When Petty draws the curtain to revel the third party who has ultimately interfered with this scenario, it’s with a mixture of disgust and concern: “I’ll bet you’re his masterpiece /I’ll be you’re his self-control/Yeah you’ll become his legacy/His quiet world of white and gold.”
 
In the final moments, as he tried to define his own role in this farce, he comes to the shuddering realization that he simply wasn’t what she wanted: “And I’m the one who oughta know/I’m the one you left to rust/Not one of your twisted friends/I’m the one you couldn’t love.”
 
On this last line, Petty’s voice practically quakes, the façade finally coming down. It is an overpowering moment in this amazing song. This guy may say he’s an “Insider,” but few songs have ever so expertly detailed the helplessness of what it’s like to be on the outside of a relationship looking in.
 
 Song 4: “Listen To Her Heart”
Album: You're Gonna Get It!

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Petty has never been shy about honoring his influences. What he has done as well as anyone in rock history is to synthesize those influences into a sound that all his own. Of course, the Heartbreakers had a lot to do with that as well, and this flawless rocker from 1978’s You’re Gonna Get It! illustrates this alchemy as well as anything.
 
There is a lot of both the Searchers and the Byrds in the main riff (particular the latter’s “Feel A Whole Lot Better,” which Petty eventually covered on Full Moon Fever), as well as a bit of Mick Jagger’s seedy storytelling panache (the lines about money and cocaine were apparently inspired by an incident with his ex-wife and Ike Turner).
 
But the Heartbreakers bring their signature, droning guitar mix to the party and make the song their own. Stan Lynch’s drums gallop at a steady pace, and the run-out to the song’s conclusion is particularly stirring, as the band takes the groove that they’ve been riding all the way and turns up the intensity. Their knack for song structure also shows up in the way that most of the instruments fall away in the bridge, which makes the return to the thunderous assault of the main part all that much more powerful.
 
Petty writes instantly memorable lyrics to go along with the tune, and all of these positives would seem to indicate a hit single, which makes the fact that the song stalled out outside the Top 40 somewhat of a mystery. Time has told the proper tale though. “Listen To Her Heart” still enlivens rock radio to this day, and serves as a reminder that you can make good to all those who came before you while still forging fearless new ground.
 
 Song 3: “Free Fallin’ ”
Album: Full Moon Fever

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Some songs are ubiquitous and don’t deserve it. I don’t want to name names to offend some stray fans of these songs, but I bet you know examples of what I’m talking about. You hear the opening bars of music come on the radio and you can’t believe that you’ve got to sit through this thing for the zillionth time in your life.
 
“Free Fallin’” is pretty ubiquitous itself. It just might be Petty’s signature song; if you were a casual fan, and were asked to name the first of his songs that pop into your head, my guess is that this one would get the highest percentage of those word-association votes. It is a tribute to how great the song is that it not only has stood the test of time, but it has also withstood its own predominance on radio, whether it be on rock, adult contemporary, oldies — any of the many formats that it neatly fits.
 
Not bad for a song with just three chords. It’s the quality and not the quantity that matters with those chords though, as they surge upward, hanging for just a moment in the middle of space, before tumbling back down, unable to sustain in that rarefied air. Of course, it’s a perfect marriage to the song’s theme, but it’s done so simply and subtlely that it’s practically subliminal.
 
That doesn’t mean that you’re hearing the same thing over and over throughout the song. While those chords carry on ad infinitum, Petty and producer Jeff Lynne add enough surprises to keep your interest whetted all the way through. Most effective among these twists comes during the last verse, when Petty’s vocal is supported only by drummer Phil Jones’ marching beat and some wordless backing vocals by Lynne. It really makes you focus on Petty’s delivery, as if he’s about to reveal something some deep mystery.
 
Petty supposedly wrote the bulk of lyrics in an improvisational spurt in an attempt to amuse Lynne, only to have his producer tell him how great they were. Lynne came up with idea of the title refrain and the notion of Petty rising up an octave to sing it, a touch that grabs you by surprise even when you have heard the song countless times.
 
I suppose that some people find some uplift in these lyrics; as for me, I feel like they speak to a kind of middle-age aimlessness that’s very distinctly American. That’s what makes the set-up of the refrain so clever: He says he’s “Free,” only to pull the rug out from you with the punch line, “Free fallin’.” Maybe he’s looking for a new world because his misdeeds, committed more through a matter of human frailty than any meanness, have left him without a home on this one.
 
It’s a pretty heavy reading to take, and I suspect the song wouldn’t be so universally loved if the majority of the people shared my downer view of it. Then again, the fact that the song can set off multiple interpretations is just another reason why it’s eternal. I guess, as a songwriter, you can’t choose the song which will become your signature. I’d say Petty is lucky that it’s “Free Fallin’,” but, filled as it is with virtuosic brilliance, I don’t think luck has a damn thing to do with it.
 
 Song 2: “Southern Accents”
Album: Southern Accents

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It’s a tough call, but, if you put a gun to my head, I’d go with Southern Accents as the finest Petty album. While it suffers a bit from haphazard production and poor song selection, it’s the most thematically unified effort that TP has ever produced. I also have a feeling that my predilection for this album comes from my fondness for the breathtakingly beautiful title track that also serves as the album’s centerpiece.
 
I know that “beautiful” may not be a word that you often hear used to hear Petty’s music, but there is no denying it applies here. The electric guitars are absent, the drums are just a distant shadow. What you’re left with are the soulful piano chords, a dab of dobro, and the orchestra, arranged by the legendary Jack Nitzsche with a subtle power that puts an inspirational fire in the belly even as it plucks the heartstrings. All of it comes in service of a melody that elicits pathos for the narrator while preserving his dignity.
 
This guy reminds me a bit of one of Randy Newman’s anti-heroes, full of flaws yet not unlikable. Even when mellowing out in a drunk tank or struggling to find work, his love for his home never wavers. That brave face starts to crumble a bit in the lovely bridge, as memories of a lost love flood over him. No sense of place can protect him from that.
 
In the final verse, Petty has the narrator dreaming about his mother in an unabashedly spiritual scene. The songwriter’s own beloved mother, Catherine, had passed away four years before the recording of “Southern Accents,” so it’s hard to avoid attaching some autobiographical weight to this verse. It’s a profound and revealing moment for a guy who couches his own personal life pretty well in his work.
 
As Benmont Tench’s tinkling piano sends the song home, we, as listeners, know that we’ve have just been privy to a rare ballad. For “Southern Accents” goes beyond the simple boy-loses-girl dynamics of your average slow song and actually, in three verses, a bridge, and some refrains, creates a believable human being, full of foibles and complexity, and, above all, full of pride in his heritage.
 
 Song 1: ”American Girl”
Album: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

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“Well she was an American girl/Raised on promises.” It’s like the start to a novel. After all, there are very few things more American than promises. Whether it’s the promise that you can improve your life, or the promise that you can start again, or the promise that anything is possible if you just choose to work for it. The promise of an education or a job, the promise of a ring, the promise of life after death. They’re more powerful than dreams, because nobody can make any assurances about dreams. But promises, well, a lot of us live our lives on them.
 
For all intents and purposes, those first two lines were the first things that anybody ever heard out of Tom Petty and his newly signed backing band, the Heartbreakers. In the same manner, the ringing guitar notes that introduce the song would be the first sound that people would associate with the band. What’s truly amazing about “American Girl” is how those opening bars of music set the tone for all that the man and his band has given us in the 35 years since.
 
After all, so much of Petty’s music has been about average people trying to make sense of their lives after those promises have been broken. How do they deal with it when that path diverges into disappointment and heartbreak? They can either give in, or they can dig in.
 
The heroine of “American Girl” digs in. Even as her losses pile up and she dwells on the one that got away, she hears the highway’s clarion call (“like waves crashin’ on the beach”) and she knows she’s got a way out. And no, the way out is not suicide, despite some silly urban myths to the contrary. Petty makes it clear via the celebratory (and sexually-tinged) chorus that this girl will not let life defeat her, no matter how painful it may be.
 
In the same way that the theme of the song resonates throughout the Petty catalog, so too does the sound. Most people assume that they’re hearing a 12-string guitar on the song; it’s actually Petty and Mike Campbell piling their two 6-strings on top of each other. Still, the essence of that guitar sound just screams out Heartbreakers. Stan Lynch’s gutbucket beat somehow seems precise and unhinged all at once, while Ron Blair provides much of the melodic punch with his economical bass-playing.
 
Campbell even gets to unleash a feral solo at song’s end, as he seemingly pulls clusters of notes out of the sky. This is rock and roll at its most animated and reckless, and it offers release for all of those fed up with unreliable promises. The come-ons in the chorus can be re-read in this light as spiritual salves: “Oh yeah, all right/Take it easy, baby/Make it last all night.”
 
The “American Girl” becomes the first in a long line of Petty characters who rise up to meet the complications of their circumstances. The fact that they don’t always overcome these obstacles has always been of little concern to TP; reality sometimes is stronger than the finest efforts. Just the fact that they have the fight in them is victory enough.
 
You could rewrite this song and say that this girl won’t back down, or she don’t scare easy, or she’s runnin’ down a dream. She will listen to her heart and it will tell her what to do, and she don’t have to live like a refugee. She’s learning to fly, and if she’s gonna go down, she’ll go down swingin’.
 
You get the theme here, don’t you? And it’s not ever repetitive, because Petty has found seemingly endless ways to get the point across.
 
“American Girl” tops this list not just because it’s the first, but ultimately because it’s the finest distillation of what Tom Petty has always given to his audience: Untrammeled integrity, difficult truth, and indomitable spirit, all wrapped up in the music that transformed him, music that he ultimately formed in his image to combine fierce power and surprising beauty.

Long may that winning formula continue, and long may Petty fatten up this amazing list with wonderful songs.