Download 2000 Album Zip

[Shantelle Wenske]

2000is the third studio album by American rapper Joey Badass. It was released on July 22, 2022, through Pro Era Records and Cinematic Music Group with license to Columbia Records. The album features guest appearances from Diddy, Westside Gunn, Larry June, Chris Brown, Capella Grey, and JID.[1] Production of the album was handled primarily by Statik Selektah and Chuck Strangers, with contributions from Erick the Architect, McClenney, Mike Will Made It, Kirk Knight, and Cardiak.

On May 11, 2022, Joey announced the title of his third studio album, with the original release date being planned for June 17, 2022, 5 days after the 10 year anniversary of the mixtape, 1999.[2] However, the album was delayed by a month, with Joey revealing on social media that it was due to sample clearance issues.[3] The album was eventually released on July 22, 2022.

On March 3, 2022, Joey Badass released the first single from the album titled "Head High", alongside a Colors Studio performance.[4] On July 1, the second single, "Where I Belong" was released with an accompanying music video.[5] The third single, "Survivors Guilt" was released on July 7, which is known as "Steez Day" dedicated to the late Capital Steez.[6] On July 15, the fourth single "Zipcodes", was released with a music video.[7] In July 2022, Joey Badass went on a 20-date summer concert tour, called the 1999-2000 Tour, with Capella Grey as the opening act.[8]

On September 2, the album was updated on digital streaming platforms, with the Statik Selektah-produced song "Let It Breathe" being added to the tracklist as the twelfth track on the album. The song was originally released as a music video on January 20, 2021 (Joey's 26th birthday) via YouTube, before releasing as an official single in August 2022.

While Judgment Night asked artists to collaborate, Loud Rocks skipped all the necessary steps. Essentially, it just sent the rap vocal Pro-Tools tracks to various famous bands, and asked them to replace the instrumental side. Nothing creative, smart, or good happened here. But an album did happen. And for idiots like me, in high school, it was a revelation.

This Brooklyn-via-Minneapolis bar band took the world by surprise. They bashed out Seventies-style riffs as Craig Finn spluttered his one-liners about killer parties gone bad, from "She gets low in her seat when she gets high in her car" to "Mary got a bloody nose from sniffing margarita mix." The songs had a Springsteen-size cast of characters, lost kids staggering through America in search of sex, drugs and salvation. The band sounded so real and raw, so loaded with compassion and wit and raunch, they became a word-of-mouth sensation. Suddenly the 2000s didn't look so hopeless after all.

Defying stereotypes, crossing boundaries, blending styles: the second album by Brooklyn's greatest band whipped indie rock, doo-wop, gospel, soul, punk and a dozen other genres into something magic and new. The music was timeless, but the message was unmistakably, furiously of its historical moment: a post-9/11, post-Katrina, post-Iraq invasion dispatch from the depths of the Bush era. "I was a lover, before this war," sang Kyp Malone and Tunde Adebimpe.

Five Swedish meatballs who dressed like Gerry and the Pacemakers by way of the Love Boat, the Hives were a cartoon rock band come to life. On their debut they made the shtick work with super-charged tunes that took pimply Nuggets-era bubblegum-blues through a Nineties garage-punk lens. On awesomely titled songs like "Introduce the Metric System In Time" and "Declare Guerre Nucleaire," frontman "Howlin'" Pelle Almquist yowled like a Nordic white blues maniac over triple-time pummel, and on "Main Offender" they gave us a stomping power-pop anthem for the ages.

A Malian guitar virtuoso and his soul queen wife team up with Manu Chao, the post-national post-punk and pop-savvy "world music" producer. Chao brings his trademark reggae grooves and cell phone-synth touches; Amadou Bagayoko cranks his guitar up, channeling Bo Diddley and Buddy Guy amid the Latin-flavored fingerpicking style of West Africa. No tribal nostalgia tripping here: on "Senegal Fast Food," the trio embrace the modern world in all its tasty, and sometimes unhealthy, contradictions.

Here's something you don't find every day: an underrated Radiohead album. Hail to the Thief, like everything else the band has done, perplexed fans at first, bristling with punk anger and art-rock ambition. But anyone can hear the raw emotion, especially in the way Thom Yorke combines his fiercest political rage with fatherly devotion in eerie ballads like "A Wolf at the Door" and "I Will." The guys later claimed they should have trimmed some of the extra tracks, but what fun would that be? The dazzling overabundance of ideas makes Hail to the Thief a triumph, from the guitar monster "2 + 2 = 5" to the slow-burning live staple "There There."

The famously un-finished Beach Boys record, begun by Wilson in 1966 as an answer to Sgt. Pepper but abandoned in favor of the less-ambitious Smiley Smile, gets finished in 2004 with help from longtime co-conspirator Van Dyke Parks. Is it the album it might've been 30-plus years ago? Who knows. But it's Wilson's finest solo moment: cascading vocal arrangements, delicious melodies, and letter-perfect orchestral flourishes. A generation of vocal-obsessed indie rockers (Animal Collective, Fleet Foxes) owe him large.

In the early 2000s, the former frontman for North Carolina alt-country also-rans Whiskeytown blossomed into a shockingly prolific, amazingly consistent song machine. On Gold, released two weeks after 9/11, he set evocations of hard loving and heavy drinking on the Lower East Side to eclectic, heartfelt roots rock. The rollicking anthem "New York, New York" could've been on AM radio in 1974, and songs like the singer-songwriter revelation "Silvia Plath" and the Hendrix-tinged boogie ''Tina Toledo's Street Walkin' Blues'' showed how diverse his talent was. Adams' character sketches of pretty young things finding themselves in a city that was still on one knee made Gold one of that autumn's most therapeutic listens.

This oddball indie-rock all-star team is one of those "only in the 2000s" stories. A.C. Newman, brilliant Vancouver songwriter and hard-luck veteran of the Nineties rock boom, retreats to his bedroom and writes a bunch of songs that would have been perfect AM-gold radio nuggets in the Seventies. He picks up a band to join him, including country vixen Neko Case and literary balladeer Dan Bejar. Then, to everyone's shock, the band becomes a hit, and just keeps getting better. This sophomore album is full of cheery guitars, loopy keyboards, and sly pop ditties like "The Laws Have Changed."

On their most intimate, sonically rich album, the cutest couple in indie rock found a sweet spot between the elegant noise-guitar hum of 1993's Painful and the bedheaded grooviness of 1997's I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One. Whether a gorgeous dance-pop tune inspired by a Simpsons episode ("Let's Save Tony Orlando's House"), recalling a dance-floor meet-cute over slow-dissolve guitar echo and a Latin-tinged rhythm ("The Last Days of Disco") or shyly covering a Seventies R&B chestnut (George McCrea's "You Can Have It All)," Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley's private revelations inspired scores of frumpy lovebirds to set aside their issues of the Believer and hit the futon.

Arcade Fire followed up their breakthrough 2004 debut with Neon Bible, a set of songs that pushed the dour, bombastic sound to a darker, more baroque extreme. Though many of the tracks, such as "Intervention" and "Black Wave/Bad Vibrations," are fixated on a noble, Job-like suffering, the group never shy away from cathartic crescendos, with the Springsteen-esque "Keep the Car Running" and the charging "No Cars Go" reaching the most ecstatic heights of their career to date.

Coldplay's debut is long on ambition, with songs like "Yellow" and "Don't Panic" that rival the grandeur of U2 and the shell-shocked beauty of The Bends-era Radiohead. But what sets the band apart from their easily spotted influences is the big-hearted warmth of frontman Chris Martin, who conveys a self-effacing humility even when his songs aim for widescreen melodrama.

Everything got a lot livelier when these mod Scottish dance-whore boys showed up, wearing tighter trousers and flaunting catchier tunes than any band out there. The Franz lads declared their mission was making "music for girls to dance to," with frantic guitar jitters and a disco sense of melodrama in hits like "Take Me Out," "Michael" and "Darts of Pleasure." Alex Kapranos' vocals are full of smeared-mascara goth sex as he sighs pick-up lines like "I can feel your lips undress my eyes." Kanye West called them "white crunk music," Lil Wayne covered "This Fire" and the band has kept girls dancing all decade long.

Bjrk carried on through the decade with notable left-field projects, but Vespertine is a one-of-a-kind item in her one-of-a-kind career. It's her most experimental yet disarmingly personal music, using glitch-riddled electronics, harps, bells, vintage music boxes and Icelandic folk sounds to create a hushed, strangely intimate mood. Bjrk sings about love and romance all over the album, in cerebral sex ballads like "Heirloom" and "Unison." When she gasps and whispers her way through "Cocoon," shocked to find herself in the presence of a boy "restoring my blisses," she captures the sound of two lovers nestling on a melting iceberg.

In Europe and Latin America, Manu Chao has long been a rock god on the scale of Bob Marley. But here in the U.S., it took this 2001 gem to give music lovers a taste of his wild-ass greatness. A Spaniard born in France, Chao rocks his acoustic guitar to horns and beatboxes, full of crackpot humor, singing in English, Spanish, French or whatever language he feels like at the moment. "Me Gustas Tu" is the one for the ages: a lazy reggae-rock guitar riff, a chorus you can't stop singing even if you don't get the language, and Chao rambling about crucial topics from politics to marijuana.

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