Mountain View

'The Ice of Boston' - The Dismemberment Plan

Some New Years' Eves are awful. Paying £20 to get in some dive bar with dross music, or straddling awkward tube services; but you've never had one quite as awkward as Travis Morrison's narrator, as he swigs champagne alone in front of his windowed terrace, naked, and realises all his neighbours are staring at him, and that he also moved to Boston for a girl who isn't remotely interested, and how ludicrous everything is. Vividly funny, a little bit lonely, and proffering a great gag that abiding the calendar year is ostensibly applying metrics to our mortal countdown.

'The New Year' - Death Cab For Cutie

"So this is the new Year/And I don't feel any different." You've rung the doorbell of the party flat - and despite the fleeting buzz of anticipation - you're calcified by indifference. After all, as Ben Gibbard testifies, isn't it basically an awkward house party underscored by the empirical fact that we're one year closer to death and that all pretensions of improvement and aspiration are meaningless? We start cynically, because obviously.

'In The New Year' - The Walkmen

'In The New Year' is the perfect anthem for rebuilding the momentum of brazen positivity and sanguinity; an arrogant, drunken chirrup about winning by landslides asserting "It's gonna be a good year/Out of the darkness/And into the fire," and emboldened by a swelling organ line and strutting percussion. Fuck it, let's be having you 2017.

'My Dear Acquaintance' - Regina Spektor

Amidst the decadence and elation resides communal intimacy, the conglomerate of compassion, generosity and warmth; that subliminal and shared optimism that substantiates the drunken jubilation. Spektor embodies it seamlessly, stripping back her whimsy for bare contentment and kindness.

'New Year's Resolution' - Camera Obscura

Continuing the theme of ever-so-dogmatic resolutions and contemplative downtime - possibly the 3am cosmic meditation slot- Glasgow's Camera Obscura extend this shy little gem as peace offering. Maybe not as eminently dancey as Otis's opus, but a sweet, melancholic, discreetly affirming star.

'New Year's Resolution' - Otis Redding & Carla Thomas

The notion of New Year's resolutions is inherently ripe for mockery; they are mostly beyond trivial, and rarely borne out past two weeks, but it's a notion equally fitting for love song conceits. Over your quintessentially strutting Northern Soul instrumentation, Otis and Carla adopt the resolution as a source of renewal, a hopeful new beginning, and just general loveliness. Arguably the dancey-ist song on this list as well.

'New Year's Eve' - Tom Waits

It's conventional wisdom that New Years is a time of warbling inebriation and oxymoronic flashes of regret and fondness, expectation and dread. That's basically a descriptor of Tom Waits though, isn't it? Lurid enough to circumvent predictability, it's morose and poignant, and a lullaby for the inevitable party lull.

'New Year's Eve' - MØ

Half nostalgic reflection, half bombastic meme of hope and debauchery. With a twinkling, almost festive piano and meandering synths, MØ prescribes sentimentality as a cure-for-all. It's the song for when the alcohol luminosity strikes you, with its concurrent jauntiness.

'11:59 (It's January)' - Scrawl

"Tonight 'Auld Lang Syne' means leaving before the kissing starts." If there's a more apt elegy for what we at The 405 are authoritatively defining as The Big Shitshow of 2016, then it's Scrawl's subjugated grumble about regret and remorse. Defiant optimism and prescriptive buoyancy are fine in nullifying the symptoms of dejection, but confrontation and conspiring critical solutions are vital to defeating the causes.

'What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?' - Ella Fitzgerald

The jazziest, sexiest New Years banger, and one of the most ubiquitous (I unearthed a cover by Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon Levitt, but it's clinically meh). You can smell the staid cigarette smoke, hear the tolling of empty whisky bottles, visualise a dusty, disquieted Manhattan bar, and feel Ella's toiling loneliness. Then you open your eyes and you're back in an Islington one-bed and your mate's been at the food table for ten minutes.

'Auld Lang Syne' - Sufjan Stevens

You need a version of 'Auld Lang Syne', obviously, and if you have Sufjan Stevens' comforting purr as an option, then it's a no-brainer. It is, eternally, the iconic outro and intro, the temporal bookends to our lives.

'This Year' - The Mountain Goats

After the frost-freckled sun rises and the abandoned prosecco glistens flat, hanging cynicism consumes you. With the very real probability that 2017 will be even more tumultuous, John Darnielle's empowering manifesto to persist against the tide is a badly needed rallying call. Optimism is important, but resolve is essential.