Millennials may love to talk about being ’90s kids, but unless they were rifling through the lowest drawer of their local record shop as a four or five-year-old, the ’90s were not when most were developing a passion for music. It’s the angst of middle school, the failures of high school and the almost-successes all interspersed which bring us to worship bands, to learn their members by heart and plaster them on the walls of our childhood rooms. For Daily music writers, that time was the ’00s, punctured by pop punk, “indie” and everything else. So we took on the impossible task here of ranking the best bands of that long decade. The word “best” is likely marred with subjective nostalgia on this list, evidenced by the visceral, emotional responses it elicited among our writers — but hell, all music is.

#20 Fall Out Boy

“Sugar, We’re Going Down” has followed me to the very planes of my existence. It’s one of those unshakeable earworms, you know? You heard that familiar skipping triple beat and you just wanted to scream along. It didn’t matter whether or not you were into the genre, you knew that song, and by extension, you knew that band.

As artists grow, the question isn’t whether or not they’ve changed, it’s whether or not the changes have affected the root of who they are. Fall Out Boy’s venues have grown from small, dim basements to gigantic stadiums, their clothing has morphed to fit, and there’s also the issue of sound. Over the years, Fall Out Boy has become undeniably less punk and more pop. American Beauty/American Psycho is significantly less emo than anything from Infinity On High, but their electric demeanors and intense performances are just as brilliant as they were back in 2007.

The band’s musicians form a striking blend of talent; Pete Wentz’s smooth lyricism, Patrick Stump’s effortlessly delivered vocals and blended composition along with Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley’s energetic, angsty instrumentals create an unforgettably well rounded result.

Fall Out Boy’s music never fails to brighten and amaze; with the passionate effort they put into their work, it’s impossible to be a static listener.

— Sam Lu

#19 Jimmy Eat World

There might be only one album by Jimmy Eat World that truly earns their spot on this list, but that album, Bleed American, is enough on its own to earn the band a place. It’s filled to the brim with incredibly written, fantastically produced songs, from the intensely popular classic “The Middle” to the heart-wrench that is “Hear You Me.” Still, beyond that incredible album, their sophomore effort Clarity is a classic in itself, and though released just before the 2000s, its impact requires a mention. Countless bands have cited Jimmy Eat World as a source of inspiration, and it’s likely that the late 00’s emo surge would have sounded very, very different without them. Their impact is inevitable.

— Megan Williams

#18 The National

For a casual observer, The National’s High Violet number-three chart debut in 2010 was a hugely surprising moment, but for longtime fans of the group, it was the well-deserved culmination of a decade of hard work. The National is the anachronistic artist that makes it to huge stages without anything that even slightly resembles a hit single. Instead, they’ve cultivated a fanbase through consistent, unique music that’s among the best of its generation.

After laying the groundwork with two early-decade records, The National broke through with 2005’s Alligator. Like their other albums, Alligator is a collection of mature, reflective rock songs, expertly arranged and filled to the brim with dark clouds of emotion by singer Matt Berninger — plus, there’s the earth-shaking chorus of Barack Obama’s later rallying cry, “Mr. November,” bookending the tracklist.

After Alligator came perhaps the band’s finest work, Boxer. Opening with the stunning, melancholy fanfare of “Fake Empire” — their best song and likely to be their most enduring work — Boxer continues through a mix of avant-garde garage rock and sophisticated reflection. It’s the sound of a still city street at 2 a.m., or a rainy night spent home with just a little something of liquor.

In the hook of their defining track, Berninger mumbles in his entrancing baritone, “We’re half awake / In a fake empire.” Throughout his songs, he sings like a good-hearted wanderer, one who loves the world even if he’s not especially optimistic about all he has seen. To listen to The National is to take yourself into an unfamiliar place, to indulge your emotion and take in the world with wide, dreaming eyes. Listen to The National, and the question about High Violet’s success isn’t “How?” but rather, “What took so long?”

— Lauren Theisen

#17 Animal Collective

Animal Collective isn't just a band — it’s an experience. When the Baltimore quartet emerged onto the indie scene in 2000, they marked their lively, dense sound as a mixture of experimental pop, noise rock and psychedelic folk. Their sound is a sonic pendulum, rocking back and forth between disarmingly intimate and chaotic, otherworldly and unpredictable.

Throughout the 2000s, the group produced a slew of albums that individually and collectively embody Animal Collective’s distinctiveness within the “indie” genre. Thanks to the chemistry of its four members — Noah “Panda Bear” Lennox, David “Avey Tare” Portner, Brian “Geologist” Weitz and Josh “Deakin” Dibb — Animal Collective was as intensely original in their approach to making music as it was boundary pushing in its artistic scope.

By the time they fully formed to make 2003's Here Comes the Indian, Animal Collective fine-tuned their amoebic sound, transforming their angsty energy into something both soothing and unnerving. From the folksy emotional powerhouse of 2004's Sung Tongs to the dizzying calypso of 2005’s Feels to the giddy synthpop of 2007’s Strawberry Jam, Animal Collective never stuck to a beat, always shifting, changing and growing.

It wasn’t until the decade's end that Animal Collective delivered their eighth, most eclectic and most acclaimed record, 2009's vivid Merriweather Post Pavilion. The album was a brilliant culmination of their work. It incorporated all of their previous trademarks — gurgling synths, choral harmonies and hyperkinetic drums — into one magnificent cesspool of vibrant sound, and then some. More importantly, the album reminded old and new listeners that Animal Collective was a force to be reckoned with.

— Sam Rosenberg

#16 The Strokes

Let’s be honest with ourselves — when most people think of rock today, they’re humming The Strokes. Yes, The Stones’ “Gimmie Shelter” is a classic rock song, maybe the classic. Yes, of course Chuck Berry actually invented the genre. But no other band cemented the sound of modern rock quite like the The Strokes. The Strokes made rock sound so obvious, so clear and straightforward that it’s hard to imagine what the word “rock” would be without them now. Perhaps it wouldn’t exist.

This makes The Strokes sound like revolutionaries, destroyers of what was and will be. It’s precisely the contrary that makes them so. As guitarist Nick Valensi once described, “There’s no bullshit, no gimmicks, no tricks,” and that about sums up everything you need to know about the band. Think, though, that this was the era of Kid A, of the sudden need among bands to kill their idols. The Strokes’ statement that no, we’re not destroying anything, was then revolutionary in its own way. They went right to the heart of rock ‘n’ roll and purified it with staccato lines, guitar riffs and simple choruses that can kill. And they didn’t just do it on a few songs: Every single track on their debut masterpiece Is This It is straightforward. That each is also endlessly repeatable is their genius.

Scream “Redundancy!” into oblivion all you want. The rest of us will play “Last Nite” until this earth stops spinning.

— Matt Gallatin

#15 Wilco

An ode to Wilco, or in other words, the best bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup you’ve ever eaten, your worn-out lounging sweater, your pint of Ben and Jerry’s Half Baked or the episodes of “Friends” that you binge watch on Saturday nights when there’s a lot of rain outside and no chance of socializing.

Wilco, in all of its beautiful heartbreak, is the best comfort music there ever will be. Frontman Jeff Tweedy’s conglomeration of sound somehow harmonizes its own heart with that of its birth city, Chicago, and the resulting formula has more than maintained. Unforced ambiance and Tweedy’s mostly empathetic vocals help explain why the band has enjoyed continued relevancy. Phenomenal experimental instrumentation has kept them pioneering the indie/alt-rock genre (regardless of age) and away from what could have been a looming graveyard of unoriginal dad rock.

“Heavy Metal Drummer” and “I’m the Man Who Loves You” cement Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2001) as a classic — and probably Wilco’s career-defining release. A string of solid releases have followed — A Ghost is Born (2004) and Sky Blue Sky (2007), most notably — and the band has gotten the credit it deserves in return. Wilco just does the trick, and it makes them one of the best.

— Joey Schuman

#14 Phoenix

Although few might actually know Phoenix if you bought them up in conversation, it would be a shock if someone couldn’t recognize at least one of their songs from their near two decade long career. From debut album United, single “If I ever feel better” is the epitome of the early `00s sound. Phoenix keep this cool, laid back feel throughout their albums — Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, released in 2009, oozes with character, yet still keeps this aesthetic, and by that combination it has no doubt wormed its way into everyone’s ears at some point. “1901” and “Lasso,” two stand-out songs, are both incredible bites of indie goodness. This upbeat, kitschy sound that Phoenix created has clearly stuck: It can be caught lurking in music today from bands such as Two Door Cinema Club and The 1975.

— Megan Williams

#13 Modest Mouse

During the early 2000s, Modest Mouse stumbled its way into the indie rock spotlight like it was an accident. Lead singer Isaac Brock seemed to not care in the slightest what noises came out of his mouth while jagged background harmonies turned songs like “Other People’s Lives” and “Bukowski” into broken mosaics. Modest Mouse doggedly continued to generate songs that stumbled drunkenly out of speakers.

People, inexplicably, loved it.

The music found in Modest Mouse’s first few albums, primarily This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About and The Lonesome Crowded West, sparked considerate interest for its eccentric mash-up of music styles. Songs were off-putting, jumping from angry and pointed attacks to smooth and gentle laments within the span of a few seconds.

However, the main importance of Modest Mouse came in their straightforwardness. Modest Mouse proudly presented songs that were naked in their truthfulness, never trying to twist lyrics into forced, empty declarations of hope or beauty. Albums grounded themselves in authenticity and freedom, allowing individual songs to range from mundane to quietly profound. Even as Modern Mouse became more of a commercial success with Good News For People Who Love Bad News, it never lost sight of its original sound: a little ragged, but always, without a doubt, forthright.

Modest Mouse didn’t really give a shit if you loved them or hated them, instead choosing to continue to make the music they desired. It’s cynical, but there’s always something innately admirable about such a resolved perseverance.

— Shima Sadaghiyani

#12 Yeah Yeah Yeahs

The turn of the millennium marks the emergence of a second-generation riot grrrl diva with absolutely no reverence for the socially acceptable. Her name is Karen O, and her band is the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

In a music genre less gender diverse than the University's Computer Science program, the YYYs stand out by the mere fact that their lead singer is female. But Karen O and the YYYs weren’t interested in being a great female-fronted band — they had their sights set on rustling up the entire music industry.

Citing everyone from Van Halen to Cat Power as influences, the YYYs split the genre conventionally recognized as “indie rock” wide open. They made music that angst-ridden teens could blast in their bedrooms to annoy their parents, while still managing to get ample airplay on the radio.

Having caught momentum in the New York rock scene, their first album, Fever To Tell, was released in 2003 to a mountain of hype and, despite being a bit rough around the edges, gave birth to one of the greatest singles of the decade: the ethereal “Maps.”

Their defining work came with 2009 release It’s Blitz. Sheathing Karen O’s maximalism with a layer of mystique, It’s Blitz creates crowd-pleasing music that still feels progressively cool. It brought us hit single “Heads Will Roll,” a track that embodies much of what the YYYs stand for. It’s unrestrained, accessible and a total jam on the dance floor.

— Jessica Zeisloft

#11 Brand New

Describing Brand New to someone who isn’t familiar with their music is a daunting task. To put it mildly, their artistic talents have grown at an astounding rate since their 2001 release, Your Favorite Weapon, an acclaimed pop-punk spitfire of an album. While the record is full of fantastic jams, it doesn’t offer much to differentiate the band from Fall Out Boy’s early material. But in June of 2003, Deja Entendu turned the alt-rock world on it’s head. And then again in `06 with the incomparable The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me — and yet again in `09, with the enigmatic Daisy.

I would sell my entire family to pick frontman Jesse Lacey’s brain for 15 minutes — just 15 minutes to figure out what makes him tick, to find out where this genius is generated. To learn how he even began to write a song like “Degausser,” and then another one like “Gasoline.”

Brand New is a band absolutely necessary to the music scene today. Deja began a massive shift in alt-rock with its expansive narrative and engrossing instrumentation; Devil and God tightened their songwriting into something completely unprecedented through incredibly fluid shifts in structure and tone. In their most iconic moment (on Deja), Lacey moans with apathy, “Oh it hurts to be this good,” and truly no line in music history has been as self-prophetic.

— Dominic Polsinelli

#10 LCD Soundsystem

“No one ever knows what you’re talking about / So I guess you’re already there,” claims James Murphy on “Home,” a cry that makes sense in the greater context of, well, LCD Soundsystem’s existence. The band isn’t exactly lyrically cryptic, sure. It is, however, methodically and instrumentally perfectionist; there’s an impulsive edge to the band’s sound. Murphy vents when he needs (“Losing My Edge,” “New York I Love You, But You’re Bringing Me Down”), lets fucking loose when he wants (“Dance Yrself Clean,” Movement”) and loves when he should (“I Can Change”). The band has an inherently vulnerable brand and an inherently innovative ethos. Its songs, most of which clock- in somewhere in the neighborhood of eight minutes, listen like a cathartic roller coaster. You get out of LCD what you put in — savor the build-up, the climax and the come down, and there’ll be tears (Happy? Sad? Both?) to follow. We ride with Murphy and Co. and we feel like one weird jive machine in mutual vibe step with them. From the band’s eponymous debut in 2005 to This is Happening in 2010, and everything in between, they’ve delicately crafted their sound to adapt to their own — and our own — life transitions. This sound isn’t for everyone, but that’s their problem. It really should be.

— Joey Schuman

#9 Paramore

As one of the most popular female-fronted bands in existence, Paramore has always been a force to be reckoned with. In a genre that was commanded by males for years, Hayley Williams was a flaming breath of life, and is considered by many to be one of the most inspirational goddesses of punk to grace the musical sphere for her passionate performances and powerhouse vocals.

But having a female lead singer isn’t Paramore’s only calling card. In the 12 years since their inception, Paramore’s sound has shifted from grimy and gritty to more diversely melodious, but never lost the distinctive, infectious flare that set them apart. Their debut, All We Know Is Falling, blew listeners away for its candid, relatable lyrics and impressive sound, despite the relative youth of the members (all under 18, apart from one!).

Paramore’s success was not only motivation for young artists — their influence also paved the way for other female punks to join the genre. Notably, Lynn Gunn of PVRIS cites Paramore as one of her biggest inspirations: “You see someone else doing that up there and you’re like, ‘I could do that, she’s just like me.’ That was a realization point, because she was a young girl… just going up and completely killing it.”

More than anything else, Paramore is a beacon of strength; their very existence is evidence of the indomitable spark that touches everything they create.

— Sam Lu

#8 Odd Future

Odd Future did not release one of the best albums of the 2000s. They probably didn’t even release one of the best rap projects of the decade. Their two major mixtapes by 2010, their debut — The Odd Future Tape — and their follow-up, Radical, were far from perfect. The tapes had filler: major discrepancy among talents, shaky, overly-joked lyricism here and there. But even with those missteps, Odd Future, maybe astoundingly, remains one of the best, most important groups of the decade.

The magic of OF is that this amorphous collective — pretty much just a group of friends from Los Angeles — created an entire subculture without even trying. They practically invented the Supreme and Vans wearing, rap-loving teen, the “Workaholics” watcher, the hip-hop Tumblr, the Thrasher-hoodied hip-hop star. They didn’t give a fuck, but they kind of did, thriving on their own contradictions. They were the perfect sensory overload for the internet.

While most of the greatest, most influential bands are bigger and more talented as a collective, OF may be a unique exception. Earl Sweatshirt, Frank Ocean, Syd, Hodgy Beats, Mike G and Tyler, The Creator just scratch the surface of OF’s individual remnants, and each have become giants in the hip-hop world on their own accord. Each have gone on to shape a unique sound, morph the trajectory of hip-hop entirely. It wouldn’t be a stretch to compare them to the Wu-Tang or N.W.A. But you probably wouldn’t see either eating beetles.

— Matt Gallatin

#7 The Killers

The Killers did something in the 2000s that few, if any, bands on this list can claim: they released incredibly successful singles without surrendering the art of the album.

The 2000s marked a huge change in the way music is consumed. With Apple's release of the first version of iTunes in 2001, the popular listening format began to shift from albums to singles.

When The Killers hit the scene in 2004, the masses were still somewhere in that transition space, and their iconic debut Hot Fuss fit smoothly into both niches.

Hot Fuss is a collection of punk-influenced new wave tracks layered with eerie and somewhat incoherent lyrics, all crooned by frontman Brandon Flowers in a subtly fake British accent. It was an album, but somehow all of the songs could stand-alone; even the songs that weren't officially released as singles had the crowd-thrilling potential to be.

Follow-up albums Sam’s Town and Day & Age refused to re-explore previously charted waters, but rather opted to veer towards rock and pop, respectively. No matter the genre, The Killers delivered memorable singles that molded seamlessly into the context of their album.

Still, an unforgettable debut continues to be the pinnacle of their career, as well as a testament to the album/single balance that makes The Killers so special. The work as a whole succeeds in shining brighter than the summation of all its starry tracks.

— Jessica Zeisloft

#6 The White Stripes

We all know the beat — dum, dum-dum-dum, dum, dum-dum — that threw the White Stripes onto the radar and into the ears of the masses. These seven notes reside among other great riffs; think “I Can’t Get No (Satisfaction).” But, to reduce the Stripes’ legacy to the now instantly recognizable “Seven Nation Army” would be absurd. Criminal, really. Their work is downright prolific, spanning genre and influence, while ultimately sticking to rock roots.

By the time “Seven Nation” hit the airwaves, the Stripes had already released three records, all clad in the band’s signature red-black-and-white color scheme, peppered with Meg’s sparse percussion and ringing with Jack’s cartoonish vocals. The fervor the two brought to the project is obvious from the first note of “Dead Leaves and The Dirty Ground.” And though they experimented with sound, tone and influence across subsequent albums, they never slowed down.

For a group that never expected their work to go so public, the Stripes certainly found a balance between the relatability of rock and the personability of independent music. With tracks like “Fell in Love with a Girl” to “Ball and Biscuit” to “We’re Going to be Friends,” every White Stripes release is worth a listen. “Seven Nation” was just a drop in their storm, a storm that carved the ’00s music scene.

— Carly Snider

#5 Arcade Fire

Containing a boundless energy that contradicts its macabre title, Montreal-based band Arcade Fire’s first public album, The Funeral, was a live wire. Win Butler’s and Règine Chassagne’s combined voices, achingly expressive, pushed the album into prominence. Songs “Rebellion (Lies),” “Wake Up” and “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” had a constant quivering anticipation fueled by vocals and harmonies bursting with loss and yearning.

Natural storytellers, Arcade Fire detailed a bittersweet loss of innocence in The Funeral and only continued to grow from there. Neon Bible was a dark, pulsing protest to the political environment of the early 2000s, centering on the public’s mindless consumption of (usually biased) media; The Suburbs a more lighthearted description of the oftentimes constricted and lonely suburban youth.

However, the impact of Arcade Fire was in the way they were able to seamlessly meld critical acclaim and commercial success, creating albums that were both entertaining and impacting. As a result, Arcade Fire’s music is expansive but not unaccessible, able to exist simultaneously within the frenzied spaces of music festivals and within social commentary.

It’s not a revolutionary act, this melding of art and business, but since the early 2000s saw the swift rise of technology changing the way the public consumed music, popularity (and therefore profit) became a notable factor in album production. Arcade Fire’s sweeping inclusivity and hard-hitting concept albums came as a long-anticipated breath of fresh air in a time of growing tension between artistic expression and public appeal.

— Shima Sadaghiyani

#4 Radiohead

For over two decades, Radiohead has evaded definition and flouted convention — constantly sliding between soundscapes, genre and image. Slipping into the scene with “Creep” in the early ’90s, the band’s arc continued to rise towards what seemed to be a never-to-be-reached peak. Their career has been as consistently impressive as it is prolific. Though virtually every release is met with praise, Radiohead truly hit their stride in the ’00s. Already a decade deep, Radiohead cranked out Kid A, Amnesiac, Hail to the Chief, COM LAG (2plus2isfive) and In Rainbow. Where other bands would falter — fall victim to repetition, cliche or the destructive lustre of fame — Radiohead only got better.

Thom Yorke, with his airy, slightly slurred vocal delivery, pairs perfectly with the band’s ambient, glitch and slightly post-punk sound; the scratches of “15 Step” contrast Yorke’s smooth delivery before the track opens up into a sleek guitar melody. The calm tone of Yorke balances the often intensely emotive soundscape.

But, with Radiohead, less is more. They manage to create music that makes you feel like you’re flying, drowning and on fire all at the same time — all without throwing anything in your face. Yorke isn’t screaming, the guitars aren’t screeching. But it’s there. It’s the hypnotic catching of the snare in “Sit Down. Stand Up,” the eerie entrance of strings in “Dollars & Cents,” the droning, mechanized tones in “Idioteque.” Though it’s impossible to nail down exactly what it is, you know it when you hear it. And you know what you’re hearing could only be the work of Radiohead.

— Carly Snider

#3 Arctic Monkeys

The world of guitar pop was certainly not longing for clever, snarky Brits in the mid-2000s, with bands like The Libertines, Bloc Party and Franz Ferdinand all at the heights of their powers. But Arctic Monkeys had a few things going for them that set them apart: They were younger than everyone, and they were a hell of a lot better.

Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, the band’s debut studio album, blew its competition out of the water upon its early 2006 release. Led by the charming, witty frontman Alex Turner, these teenagers from working-class Sheffield set British sales records with no-frills guitar power, tight pop songwriting and their quotable observations on the town around them. Lead single “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” became one of the defining songs (and pick-up lines) of its era, while the album-closing “A Certain Romance” turned the local hangouts of Sheffield into immortal locations filled with “Outsiders”-esque adventure.

And the Arctics never burned out, following up Whatever People Say I Am, they turned in the equally strong Favourite Worst Nightmare and then the subtler, more complex Humbug. While their peers showed early, exciting promise but failed to stay relevant, Arctic Monkeys have evolved and matured like few bands can, even breaking into America with their most recent release, 2013’s AM and its hit single “Do I Wanna Know?”

— Lauren Theisen

#2 My Chemical Romance

If the mention of My Chemical Romance doesn’t immediately trigger faint piano melodies accompanied with the tenderly sung “When I was a young boy…” I’m fairly certain you didn’t exist in the 2000s — to say MCR is iconic is a drastic understatement.

My Chemical Romance were revered artists in their prime. It’s a simple fact supported by the dichotomy among the population of the early 21st century: You either adored MCR, or you adored “Welcome to the Black Parade.” Either way, there’s something to be in love with. Their artistic merit reaches beyond their surface radio hits — though “Helena” and “Teenagers” are undeniable masterpieces. Beneath this commercial success lies a gold mine of art. Beginning with their first album, I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love (given beautiful tribute by The Daily’s very own Sam Lu), it’s immediately apparent that MCR was a band born from raw talent — I still listen to “Headfirst for Halos” on a near daily basis. They took early 2000s emo and gave it merit. Made it into art. Made it into something stronger than simple self-depreciation and bitterness over tween relationships.

As much as all you normies have been scorning the scene kids since middle school — their united love for MCR, and our collective remembrance of their musical prowess, is a powerful testament to the band’s massive impact throughout the turn of the century.

— Dominic Polsinelli

#1 Vampire Weekend

The first time I heard a Vampire Weekend song, it was “Unbelievers,” playing through the speakers of my car’s radio. I fell in love with the song because it was catchy, I liked the lyrics and it was layered in a way I hadn’t heard from the rest of the pop music on that radio station. The next time I heard Vampire Weekend, a friend put “Oxford Comma” on her graduation playlist, and I liked that song for a lot of the same reasons.

But Vampire Weekend is a lot more than a catchy indie band, and both their impact on music and their history as a band go much deeper than a memorable moment on the car radio. In their formative years, Ezra Koenig, Chris Tomson and Chris Baio were heavily influenced by world and African music. This influence has contributed to their unique style, which is at once fun and unpredictable, classic and inventive.

Enthusiastically supported by bloggers and media sources even before they released their debut album, Vampire Weekend also serves as an early example of the ways in which Internet attention can play a crucial role in the rise of a band’s popularity. To me, this trait in particular is what makes them stick out as the significant band of the early 2000s. The early 2000s saw new preoccupations with digital fame, developing relationships between the public and the media, and the rise of blogging, all of which were particularly significant in the world of music. These strides began opening new gateways for emerging artists, new avenues for popularity. No one exemplifies this change more clearly than Vampire Weekend. It’s no wonder they’ve continued to have success in more recent years, and with their innovative and appealing music style, it’s safe to say we’ll be hearing from them — through car radios, graduation playlists and more — for years to come.

— Laura Dzubay