2000 Tamil Songs Zip File Download

[Terry Chavarin]

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).

DiS' founder and current editor Sean Adams compiles a playlist of songs that could be heard in the year 2000 (a rough theme we've set for you to build a Spotifriday playlist around - more details here) when this very website was in its embryonic stages. First, a bit of prologue...

Nine years ago this week, my life was a complete and utter mess. After a couple of years running a music fanzine via email, I'd finally stumbled across a tech-whiz and a wonderful world of people who loved music as much as I did, who all really liked the idea of teaming up to share their love and knowledge of music. Frantic instant messenger conversations and excited emails were being flung around following a get together at Reading 2000 with some of the founding contributors to DiS, ensuring that as many of our ideas as possible would be part of the new site.

The name had been decided upon and as anyone whose ever started a band knows, coming up with a name pre-empts everything else. I came up with it because I liked the repetition of the ow-nd noises, the acronym, the imagery of being lost in and buried by crowd surfers and sound waves. And it was a helluva lot better than SoundSurfer, MouseEars, TheIndiependent and other first attempts to come up with a title. A dodgy logo of a mouse in headphones surfing was put together and a theme involving bubbles was agreed upon.

It was an exciting time and one which led, in part, to the site you see before you. We had no real clue what we were doing and had very few reference points (Livejournal and Diaryland were the closest things to blogs and there weren't really any communities or music websites to speak of) but between us we had enough enthusiasm to make something happen for the music we were passionate about.

And, of course, 2000 was a great year for music. In fact, I'd go as far as saying 2000 is one of the most important years for music and one which never really gets the credit it deserves. The mainstream was terrible (Atomic Kitten, Darude and Billie Piper?!). Grunge was dead, Brit Pop was well and truly over over and dance music had gone into some grotesque spiral. SoCal punk had run its course with Blink-182, GreenDay and Offspring all reaching their pinnacle but whilst they reached their biggest audiences, they delivered some of the worst albums of their careers. Nu Metal acts like Limp Bizkit, Slipknot and Incubus were riding high, and Mtv2 was at its peak. All of which might, understandably, make you want to wretch 'n' hurl but - and this is a big but - for anyone delving a little deeper (by reading mags or exploring P2P sites), the search was truly rewarded.

It's hard to know precisely why so much great inventive pop and experimental music landed upon our shores in the year 2000. Perhaps it was the post-Napster success of mainstream alternative combined with the back catalogue sales which afforded various A&R men and independent labels to take bigger risks. Maybe it was the pre-Y2K optimism, with hope for the future, within which a lot of the year's finest were written and recorded. Personally, I like to think that it was a combination of all of this, as well as every great record that broke through forcing peers to work that bit harder to better what they were doing. Bands were making good on their promise, consolidating the goodwill and breaking through, and the impact of it on a coming of age generation - of both fans and musicians - was incredibly inspirational.

This 30-song playlist might not be what everyone involved in DiS at the time was listening to but all of these songs meant a lot to me at the time and most of them mean even more to me now. Admittedly, a lot of what I wanted to put on this playlist wasn't available on Spotify (notably Bright Eyes' Fevers & Mirrors), so apologies if it seems a bit obvious, especially given hindsight. But anyway, without further ado, I'd like you all to raise a glass and say 'Year 2000, thank you for the music.' Cheers.

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.

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