The 5 Best Songs About New York — Ranked By A Native

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New York City has become something of an idea over time. It's not just an assemblage of boroughs, neighborhoods, and streets full of locals swearing that the nearby deli makes the best sandwiches around. It's practically a mythical symbol of civilization itself, where if people can "make it there" then they can "make it anywhere," as Frank Sinatra famously sings in "Theme from New York, New York." 

Sinatra's song is one of a mountain piled up in offering to New York, or at least about the city in some way (not all positive). Amidst such a heap, what makes certain tributes stand out? From the perspective of a New York City native, it's got to start with authenticity. Each New Yorker comes equipped with a finely tuned BS detector, so if you're going to rep New York, you'd better sound like you know what you're talking about, right down to the hot dog water and what Sylvia Plath once gloriously described in "The Bell Jar" as the "fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway." For instance, a hit like Jay-Z's (now "JAŸ-Z," apparently) "Empire State of Mind" extols New York's coolness but is ultimately just a grab bag of name drops that tries too hard to glaze the hometown crowd. It comes across as forced and inauthentic (cue the deeply offended Hova lovers).

Also, what exactly are we paying tribute to? We're open to anything so long as a song captures some true NYC essence. A well-known Pogues song sums up the city's history of adopting immigrants, for instance, while a famed Billy Joel song longs for the city's messy realness. Other songs by the Beastie Boys, LCD Soundsystem, and yes, Sinatra, round things out.

Yes, yes, we know: This choice is too easy. Not designating Frank Sinatra's "Theme from New York, New York" as the best tribute to NYC is practically sacrilege. It's like eating Prego on your spaghatagootz instead of your nonna's homemade sauce (Sinatra was a paisan, remember). 

But all gags aside, is there a more famed, universal tribute song to NYC than "Theme From New York, New York"? Practically every line is quotable to the point of having entered our everyday lexicon as a catchphrase: "I want to be a part of it / New York, New York"; "I want to wake up / In a city that doesn't sleep"; and especially, "If I can make it there / I'll make it anywhere." 

Sure, it's possible to take the lyrics of "Theme From New York, New York" as the starry-eyed delusions of a youth soon to be crushed by bad diner tips and failed local theater auditions. After all, nothing in the song talks about guarantees, only having nowhere else to run ("It's up to you / New York, New York"). But this is what makes the song work. Anything might be possible in New York City, but it's a 100% make-or-break place that can only give back what you give. 

Speaking of which, "Theme From New York, New York" reforged Sinatra's late-life career. Even though the song sounds like it's from the '40s or '50s, it came from Martin Scorsese's 1977 flop film, "New York, New York." Liza Minnelli performed the song originally, but when Sinatra first sang it in 1978, something clicked, and it became his. Seems the lyrics were right, after all.

Could there be a better choice for an authentic tribute to New York City than a song about a guy looking for authenticity in New York City? So it is that we arrive at Billy Joel's "New York State of Mind" from 1976's "Turnstiles," our No. 2 song that Joel wrote while riding on a bus from California back to New York, as the song's lyrics describe.

"New York State of Mind" reflects a belief held by all New Yorkers: The city is a place where raw, undiluted, and undeluded life happens (especially in the '70s when the place was falling apart). As Joel wrote, the song is about fleeing "all the movie stars / In their fancy cars and their limousines" for the "rhythm and blues" of New York's streets. It's about choosing Chinatown or Riverside over Miami and wanting the city's "give and take" over forests and mountains. In this way, "New York State of Mind" also typifies another belief that New Yorkers often cite about the city, to a fault: There's nowhere else in the world quite like it. 

"New York State of Mind" contains one other element that makes it work: swagger. Joel, who is from the Bronx, delivers a vocal and instrumental performance grounded in unhurried coolness (especially visible in live performances). He, like New York City, is unfazed by what you think and is only what he is, no more and no less. This makes Joel feel like a New York everyman, equalized by the city and rid of too-sunny pretentions. Now that's a New York state of mind. 

How does an Irish folk group make it to No. 3 on our New York City tribute list? If you've ever heard the lyrics to "Fairytale of New York" and saw them sung by The Pogues' very dentally recognizable Shane MacGowan (who sadly died in 2023), then you'd get it. "Fairytale of New York" is a heartfelt tale about the old, romantic vision of New York as a haven for immigrants in need of a fresh start. The song acts like a companion to "The New Colossus" poem on the Statue of Liberty that reads, "Give me your tired, your poor / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore."

The wretched refuse in this case is the protagonist of "Fairytale Of New York," an Irish guy in jail on Christmas Eve dreaming of "cars big as bars," "rivers of gold," Broadway, Frank Sinatra, the NYPD choir, and more. Like other waves of immigrants from China, Italy, Germany, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, etc., over 2 million Irish immigrants fled their country amidst the Great Famine from 1845 to 1870 for an unknown shore of unrealized promises and terrible living conditions. The stalwart Irish immigrants that The Pogues described, plus all other immigrant waves, laid the foundation for New York's extremely diverse cross-sections of peoples and cultures. 

Plus, "Fairytale of New York" is technically a Christmas song, an especially beautiful time in the Big Apple, Rockefeller Center tree and all. Sure, Christmas is special everywhere, but it dons a particular character in New York, one buried in a coat, hat, and scarf in the heart of winter, armored on the outside and kept all squishy and vulnerable inside.

Our No. 4 tribute comes from the Beastie Boys, a hip-hop outfit that proudly repped New York City from 1986's "Licensed to Ill" until member Adam "MCA" Yauch tragically died in 2012. In 2004, the trio released "An Open Letter to NYC," a loving tribute to the city's five boroughs. The song's post-9/11 release date says a lot, as does its lyrics: "Dear New York, I know a lot has changed / Two towers down, but you're still in the game / Home to the many, rejecting no one / Accepting peoples of all places, wherever they're from." If those words don't make a New Yorker's heart swell with pride, we don't know what will. 

But more than a mere 9/11 bonding moment, "An Open Letter to NYC" also serves as a fitting tribute to New York City because it ticks our hip-hop box — a no-brainer connection to any New Yorker. The city's got quite the history with the genre, especially boom bap courtesy of Wu-Tang, Biggie, Nas, etc. This vein of hip-hop is a bit hard and rough in attitude but all buttery smooth in the flow, just like the city.

Moreover, "An Open Letter to NYC" defines the sense of solidarity amongst many (not all) New Yorkers that everyone in the city is, in some way, bonded by one life and creed. This is no more apparent than when the chips are down, like they were following 9/11. But no matter that the song came from that time period — it can easily apply to anytime, anywhere, and remind folks what makes the Big Apple resilient and vibrant.

Coming in at number five, "New York, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down" pays homage to New York City even if only through bittersweet regret. Describing its sentiments right in its name, LCD Soundsystem's 2007 track doesn't describe New York bringing the singer down through an innately oppressive, dog-eat-dog lifestyle or something. Rather, "New York, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down" is a lament for the New York City that the singer can no longer experience, one that was "filthy but fine" rather than "safer and ... wasting my time."

The singer in this case isn't a fictional character but LCD Soundsystem's vocalist, James Murphy. Growing up in New Jersey, his perspective on New York City, as NYS Music outlines, was one of "rose-colored glasses." As he told The Guardian, he believed that unusual happenings and strange art prevailed within its borders, at least from 1968 to 1974 when "record companies [were] run by weirdos." As "New York, I Love You but You're Bringing Me Down" says, the city is now comparatively gentrified — it's safe, clean, and has lost some creative edge. But as the song concludes, it's still great the way it is.

This might not sound like too much of a tribute, but it is, as every New Yorker envisions a city that used to be better somehow, some way — or could be. This vision underscores a hope that the city can somehow, some way provide people with what they need. Such hope, in turn, speaks volumes about NYC's role in history and cultural memory: It's a real place, but it's also an ideal. One day, it might happen.