Some songs accidentally become Christmas songs, and December by Neck Deep might be the best example the scene has ever produced. It’s not festive on purpose. There are no bells, no cheerful hooks, no forced holiday metaphors. But ask any alt-music fan what song owns December and they’ll say December before you even finish the question.
It’s wild how naturally this track has attached itself to the holiday season. It hits the perfect mix of longing, timing, distance and that cold winter ache that sneaks up on you every year. Sure, it’s technically a breakup song, but that almost makes it more Christmassy for the emo crowd. The holidays aren’t picture-perfect for everyone. Not all of us are living in cosy Christmas-movie land. Some of us are staring out of frost-covered windows thinking about people we shouldn’t still care about, and Neck Deep captured that before anyone else did.
What makes December so iconic is how it taps into every flavour of the season at once. It’s sad but comforting. Lonely but familiar. It’s the soundtrack to sitting in a car park at 1am, texting someone you definitely shouldn’t, or wondering how the last year disappeared so quickly. It hits whether you’re heartbroken or just nostalgic for a version of yourself that only shows up this time of year.
And then there’s the part everyone forgets until they’re back on Spotify in December: December didn’t stop at one version. Neck Deep went full emotional advent calendar with two alternate cuts — one featuring Mark Hoppus and one featuring Chris Carrabba — and they each hit completely different ends of the seasonal sadness spectrum.
The Mark Hoppus version feels like the pop-punk comfort edition of the song. His voice adds that warm, nostalgic glow that somehow makes everything hurt less even as the lyrics stay the same. It’s the one you put on when you’re trying to laugh through the heartbreak and pretend you’re fine.
Meanwhile, the Chris Carrabba version leans all the way into the emotional damage. Dashboard fans already know he was built for winter heartbreak, and his take on the track turns December into a full-blown cold-weather gut-punch. It’s quieter, heavier and feels like that moment you finally admit you’re not over something you swore you’d moved on from.
Together, the three versions basically give fans a personalised menu of December sadness. The nostalgic one, the pop-punk one, and the “I might actually cry in the shower” one. It’s the most accidentally perfect holiday-season setup imaginable.
And the scene embraced it completely. Every December, the song surges back into playlists, TikToks, captions and comments. It’s become a tradition. It’s the emo equivalent of hearing Slade in Tesco, except instead of yelling it’s Christmas, you’re quietly reliving your teenage trauma.
The best part is that Neck Deep never pushed for any of this. December wasn’t crafted as a seasonal anthem. It just resonated so deeply that fans claimed it, the same way I Miss You accidentally became a Halloween song. The internet decides these things, and it decided December belongs to Neck Deep.
At this point, the holidays wouldn’t feel right without this song. It’s the modern emo Christmas classic, not because it’s festive, but because it captures the real emotional atmosphere of December for alternative fans. Nostalgic. Honest. A little heartbreaking. Exactly why it works.
If you want to lean fully into the mood, we’ve put together a Christmas playlist packed with scene favourites, accidental holiday anthems and winter soundtrack staples. Stick it on, let the nostalgia hit, and make December feel exactly how it’s supposed to.
