2000 Era Songs

[Bigg Gernes]

Somehowthe Gorillaz needed a cartoon band to smuggle this seamless merger of Damon Albarn's melancholy Britpop and De La Soul's head-bobbing hip-hop into the mainstream. It seems unnecessary now, but bless those animated apes.

The melodrama was vintage Sixties girl-group-style, with gorgeous Spectorian wall of sound production by Mark Ronson. The sensibility was a bit more up-to-date. (Sample lyric: "Kept your dick wet/ With that same old safe bet.") And the stormily soulful vocal performance? Pure Winehouse.

A single brief verse (repeated three times) about a snowy epiphany, some exquisite close harmonies, wordless falsetto doubled by understated surf guitar. What more could you ask from scruffy young men?

Paisley was one of the era's great country artists, a Nashville-factory star who also happened to pull duty as a stunning singer, songwriter and guitarist. He sings this song from alcohol's point of view: "Since the day I left Milwaukee, Lynchburg, Bordeaux, France/I've been making a fool out of folks just like you/And helping white people dance." Another round!

The Boss's 9/11 anthem was actually written in 2000 about the decline of Asbury Park, New Jersey. Built around the chords of Curtis Mayfield's "People Get Ready," it became the climactic prayer of his album The Rising.

The dream of the Seventies was alive in Denton, Texas, home to the quintet behind this meticulously layered evocation of the foreboding, psychedelic soft rock of their youth and the craftsmen of a century earlier.

Anybody who believed the retirement would last more than a couple years has to be among the planet's most gullible people. If you could still drop rhymes like this, brushing off all possible competition, not to mention escorting Beyonc to the VMAs, would you retire? But that didn't keep anyone from cranking this masterful hip-hop farewell speech.

The Everly Brothers recorded the original version in 1964, but it was the chemistry between Plant's urgent gasps and Krauss's bluegrass coo that made their stripped-down rockabilly remake catch fire.

This Montreal troupe proved they had the scope and passion for an all-out arena-rock anthem, even though nobody suspected they'd ever get in the back door of an actual arena. With the swooping chorus chant ("Every time you close your eyes") and the pumping keyboards, it was the greatest Simple Minds song that Simple Minds never wrote.

If you were a drunk hipster girl in the summer of 2007, you probably had an Amy Winehouse haircut, and you also probably hit the dance floor the second this song came on, with that awesome ridiculous children's choir and filter-disco beats. Dancers never got sick of this French techno duo's massive Michael Jackson tribute.

The decade's best song about romance in a disco was a ferocious rock & roll rave-up by a wildly hyped Britpop band that was, lo and behold, worthy of the hype. Best pick-up line: "Well I bet that you look good on the dance floor/Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984/From 1984!"

Despite all the new pop starlets out there trying to jump her train, Madonna definitely was not slackening the pace. When she dropped "Music," she was older than Britney and Christina combined, yet she took them to school with vintage electro-boom, Eurodisco flourishes from French producer Mirwais, and her own inimitable sass.

The punk brats of Green Day evolved into stadium gods with this bittersweet power ballad. Billie Joe Armstrong's enormous Broadway-bound chorus is a lonesome lament on record that inspires earnest sing alongs in concert.

Alicia Keys was something new in pop, a star whose appeal bridged the generation gap: a singer with hip-hop swagger, an old-school soul sound and older school (as in Chopin) piano chops. Her lovelorn debut smash flaunted all three assets.

That acoustic guitar surge, courtesy of songwriter Ne-Yo, gives Miss B the courage to throw a no-good boyfriend out of the house. Yet another reason to love Beyonc: at 13 letters, this was the longest one-word song title ever to hit Number One, breaking the 12-letter record set by "Superstition."

In which the saviors of New York rock perfect their attack: two interlocking guitars; one whip-cracking rhythm section; and a gloriously louche frontman sneering at the rubes: "Raised in Carolina/I'm not like that." Beneath the torrid groove, you can practically hear the squeak of black leather on denim.

The song Natalie Portman told Zach Braff would change his life (see Garden State) is a sweet ballad of what might've been, but wasn't. "I'm looking in on the good life I might be doomed never to find" nails a generational mindset like a baby T-shirt slogan.

Inspired by Andre 3000's beef with the mother of one-time girlfriend Erykah Badu, OutKast's first Number One hit is the funniest, catchiest thing they ever did. Over a head-snapping beat that quotes Wagner's wedding march, Dre and Big Boi rap hyper-fluidly about cheating girlfriends and custody wars, delivering a chorus that's both P-Funk and totally pop. Scores of white sorority girls had no choice but to sing along.

If you want to carry/store/listen to more songs than this, I suggest you return it and buy either a Clip+ or Clip Zip; both full-featured models. They will both play music from both memory locations seamlessly and if I recall correctly their database limitation is 8000 tracks (total).

Don't worry - it's quick and painless! Just click below, and once you're logged in we'll bring you right back here and post your question. We'll remember what you've already typed in so you won't have to do it again.

I have a playlist with over 2000 songs on it. It's hours and hours of work put in to. Now I can't find it. I'm devastated!!! I logged in to my account and checked Recover playlists, but it's just empty. Please help me, is it deleted? Hopefully it's not!! There's got to be some kinda of backup somewhere where the playlist exist.

The playlist is called Billboard Hot 100 top ten or something. Yes I do have a playlist called that, but it's not that one. It's another one, with over 2000 songs on it. It has a similar name. Or maybe the same name.

I have a smilier issue. After the latest update, one of my playlists (a long one, about 220 hours of songs) disappeared from my library. I could still see the playlist in my recently played, but when I try and copy a link to it, the link takes me to a blank page. However, friends that I shared the playlist with can still see it. I'm hoping that someone can help fix this bug.

Thanks for reaching out. Is this on all devices or only on specific one(s)? Try the webplayer too. If certrain devices don't see the playlist, try performing a clean reinstall. If you can find a link to this playlist, can other people still open it?

No sorry it's not showing up in any of the players (web/mobile/desktop). I don't have a link to the playlist. I was about to post it on Facebook when it was finished but yeah, now it's gone. I tried a clean reinstall but it didn't help.

Hey @JensHaglof,

Thanks for getting back to us.

Was the playlist created by your or was it a collaborative one? If it was created by you, it might've been on a different profile you're not aware of. To check for other accounts, use the suggestions in this article.

We hope this helps.

The playlist was created by me only. I created two playlists at once. One called "Billboard hot 100 top ten" or something like that. Another one called "Billboard History Intressanta ltar". In the first playlist I put all the songs that's been on billboard top 3 every week since 1940. (Imagine the time this takes. We are talking weeks of constantly searching and adding songs. I was at 2016 when the playlist dissapeared, only seven years left.) In the other playlist I put interesting songs I found.

I always login via Facebook, I don't think I have another profile. I created the playlist on my computer at home and I always login in to the same account. All my other playlists are there as well. So I'm pretty sure the playlist isn't on another profile. Unless it's been moved there.

Hey! The playlist is back! Yes!!! Don't know what happened. Did you do something? I guess this topic got solved, even though I don't know how. I'll be careful to save the link to it, if it ever would happen again. Thank you for all your help. I must say I like the Spotify support team.

My passage as a listener into the jazz world was accidental and fortuitous. As a young rock fan browsing the vinyl cutouts at Jack's Record Rack, I found one of Miles Davis' Live at the Blackhawk albums for $1.99 or so. Something about the moody cover appealed to me, so I bought it.

Not long after that, I heard my first live jazz performance. The shortlived Winterfest booked tenor saxophonist Dexter Gordon, who'd made a remarkable comeback after some lean years. For a few bucks I heard one of the giants of his instrument play "It's You or No One" and several other numbers.

I was lucky that my first encounters with the music were with truly great musicians. The recorded legacy of jazz is so vast now, it can be hard for a newbie or dabbler to figure out what to listen to next. Too many choices.

There are many histories of and guidebooks to jazz. "The Jazz Standards" (Oxford University Press, $39.95). a new book by music historian and pianist Ted Gioia, might help you with the Ellington conundrum. Gioia has written a short historical and musical essay on more than 250 songs commonly played by jazz musicians, then offers a selection of recommended recordings for each song. "I have made these selections on the basis of their historical importance, influence on later artists, inherent quality, and originality of conception. At the same time, I tried to highlight a variety of interpretive styles." So, to stick with Duke, Gioia suggests several different recordings of "In a Sentimental Mood" by the composer (including one with John Coltrane), as well as versions by Sonny Rollins, Art Tatum, Nancy Wilson, McCoy Tyner, Abdullah Ibrahim and Buddy Tate, and Chris Potter.

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