From 00:00 hours on December 1st, they’ll find you wherever you go. You might not even see them, but by God you’ll hear them - and not just the once either. Suited, booted and Santa-hatted, here they all are: Mariah and Macca, Shakey and Slade, Wizzard and Wham!, with Chris Rea tootling along behind in his G-reg Nissan Micra.

The Christmas song is a unique phenomenon in pop music: rarely if ever heard for 93.85% of the year, but utterly ubiquitous throughout the other 6.15%. If you work in a supermarket, chain restaurant or shopping centre, you’ll hear certain songs hundreds of times apiece over the festive period. Even the half-decent ones will haunt your dreams until mid-January. If they were used as weapons of war, the perpetrators would be in clear breach of the Geneva Convention.

For most of my adult life, my chosen antidote to this audio hellscape was based around denial. Throughout December, from the moment my front door clicked shut until I was obliged to face the world again, Christmas didn’t exist. No tree, no garish jumpers, definitely no Love Actually, and no Christmas music. I didn’t see it as festive misanthropy, just necessary balance.

But a few years back, I had an epiphany – it’s the time of year for it, after all – thanks in part to the legendary Edinburgh festive knees-up that was Kid Canaveral’s Christmas Baubles, and in part to the peerless BBC 6 Music DJ Gideon Coe and his annual All Christmas Pre-Christmas Christmas Programme.

It dawned on me that many – if not most – of my favourite musicians had turned their hand to Christmas music at some point. While I’d need to go well out of my way to avoid hearing Stay Another Day, I’d have to go just as far to hear a double A-side by Scottish micro-indie artists based on the plot of Die Hard. And if I was willing – more than willing – to take the trouble in the former case, it seemed a shame not to do the same in the latter.

So, my character duly reformed, allow me to present a short playlist of underappreciated Christmas songs to cleanse your palate from whichever one you’ve just heard for the 5,000th time in your life.

Slow Club – Christmas TV

Before Rebecca Lucy Taylor deservedly crossed over into the mainstream as Self Esteem, she was one half of the less celebrated – but in certain circles, equally beloved – indie duo Slow Club, whose Christmas EP includes this lovely, wistful acoustic number. It also features a joyous romp through the greatest Christmas song ever – Darlene Love’s Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) – but we’ll come back to cover versions in a bit…

Du Blonde – It’s Christmas and I’m Crying

As we’re talking underappreciated artists here, I’ll never understand why Du Blonde, aka Beth Jeans Houghton, isn’t an international megastar. With a glorious back catalogue of songs almost entirely unlike this one, this came as a splendid surprise: a melodic, hilarious and strangely moving tale of a family Christmas distinctly lacking in kindred spirits.

Jonnie Common and eagleowl – Yippee-Kay-Yule

The previously mentioned Die Hard double A-side, perhaps the most esoteric release on the Song, by Toad label (which is saying something) and recorded right here in Leith. The eagleowl song is written from the perspective of Nakatomi Plaza, the skyscraper in which the action of Die Hard takes place, because why wouldn’t it be?

Rotary Connection – Peace at Least

A 1960s psychedelic soul classic that poses the question of how Santa manages to perform so many unlikely tasks during the course of a single night, before coming to the obvious conclusion: he’s just really, really stoned.

Carla J Easton – Spending Every Christmas With My Boy

Another ludicrously talented performer (and, these days, filmmaker) with a unique voice and infectious glam-infused sound. Massive bonus points for writing a Christmas song about her cat.

Cocteau Twins – Frosty the Snowman

Who doesn’t love an incongruous cover version at Christmas? Honourable mention to the Captain himself, William Shatner, whose 2018 album Shatner Claus (yes, really) includes a frankly alarming duet with Iggy Pop on Silent Night. But better still is when a band with a trademark sound takes the least probable source material imaginable and makes it sound as if it was their song all along. This is the only version of Frosty the Snowman you ever need to hear.

Low – Just Like Christmas

Let’s be honest: if you’re familiar with even a few of the songs mentioned here it’s likely that Low’s revered Christmas song appeals to a particular subset (mine) of a particular generation (also mine). I’ll never tire of listening to the closing refrain on a loop until next Christmas before I’d tire of it.