The whole idea of Lou Reed's art is captured in this snippet of the liner notes regarding this album: "It's meant to be listened to in one 58 minute (14 songs!) sitting as though it were a book or a movie." There is exactly one reason Reed has only had one hit in his 35-year career: He's an artist. His albums contain blissfully funny rock-songs, yes, but there's also the kind of Nicole Blackmannish deadly seriousness in some of their lyrics, that makes you forever unable to not listen to them once you've started. Reed's self-appointed mission is to elevate rock music to an art form in the league of literature and painting, and "New York" is the closest he's gotten yet. Going against the liner notes, if there's only one song you hear from this album it should be Beginning of A Great Adventure, which is the best treatment of becoming a father I've ever heard. But, honestly, once you've got the album (and you should get it if you have any interest in rock becoming more than simple entertainment) you ought to do as Lou says and listen to it all. It's well worth it.