While bazillions conjoin into one cluttered, drunken mass at tourist party-central (aka Times Square) on New Year’s Eve for the mother of all blowouts, locals know to avoid the meat grinder. Instead we head to Gotham’s choice music clubs, which host stellar shows from Tribeca to the Lower East Side and as far north as West 34th. The perk: modest-for-New Year’s price of admission—meaning extra cash for the bar matron or the cab ride home (if you can score one). So thrust your drink into the air and usher in 2007 with these bands, and you’ll end up having a great time without breaking the bank.

Welcoming the New Year with Radio 4 is becoming a yearly ritual. Last year, it was the Knitting Factory; this year, the Mercury Lounge. As one of the protagonists who revitalized the then-stagnant NYC music scene back in 1999, R4 has morphed from bare essentials Gang of Four-influenced angular trio into a vibrant, wicked quintet, rife with a dancified crosscut of post-punk white noise meets reggae groove. Its dance mantra might pose a problem for the flat-footed: R4’s emphasis on propulsive disco-ized, heavy-bottom, polyrhythmic, percussive spunk and hooky guitar licks is a shak-em-up hell—echoing the minimalist funk of ESG, especially on the 2001 club staple, “Dance to the Underground.” Expect to lose yourself to The Clash-inspired “Too Much to Ask For,” then mellow out to the dub of “Ascension Street”—all cuts from R4’s excellent 2006 disc, Enemies Like This. These guys are so New York that bassist/vocalist Anthony Roman runs a quaint, little record shop he calls Somethin’ Else on Fifth Avenue in the heart of Park Slope.

Dec. 31. Mercury Lounge, 217 E. Houston St. (at Ave. A), 212-260-4700; 9, $25.

CYHSY owns arguably the most unappealing moniker in rock history, and its singer’s resonant whine—envision a CBGB catfight circa-1977, pitting Tom Verlaine against David Byrne—isn’t easy on the ears either. No matter. Alec Ounsworth’s voice flourishes as its own infectious instrument, evoking the mother load of emotional breadth. The plaintive, lazy murmurs and delicate yelps intersect with iridescent, melodious jangle as synth sounds ebb and flow, converging into a tasteful, anthemic indie pop blend that is already arena ready (or in this case, Hammerstein Ballroom ready). There’s reason why this Brooklyn/Philadelphia group was last year’s it group and are still busting at the seams of its thrift store threads. Let’s recap: CYHSY goes it alone, sans record label, producer, distributor and promoter. The group’s new wavey collage of Television-ish twin guitar coiling and chiming R.E.M. melody combined with Radiohead’s slow-build spawned an Internet buzz sensation and virtual overnight popularity. A new record, titled Some Loud Thunder, is expected in January—self-released, of course. Count on hearing plenty of new tunes this evening, and expect to be angling for position against unkempt-hair and scruffy beards (to keep you warm, of course).

Dec. 31. Hammerstein Ballroom, 311 W. 34th St. (betw. 8th & 9th Aves.), 212-777-1224; 8, $42.

The ambiance inside the Knitting Factory will surely be immersed with happy-go-lucky vibes and a cuddly sentiment when Mates of State’s pop goodness illuminates the stage come midnight. The husband/wife duo of Jason Hammel and Kori Gardner dispels the introverted, brooding indie rock blueprint of keeping emotions in check, refusing to follow the lead of infamous rock couples like Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth and Yo La Tengo’s Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley. Those couples never graced the cover of their discs, canoodling in lovey-dovey poses and giving the impression of having a heck of a time. Mates of State has done just that, and its most recent long-player, Bring It Back, sprinkles mellifluous ear candy in all directions with cutie girl-meets-boy la-la harmonies. But don’t label Mates’ sound as wimpy because there aren’t any guitars to smash in its organ-drums lineup. Gardner’s not only an ace on the organ but a looker, too. Long, blond locks flailing, she churns out both sonic racket and damaged pop, entwining with Hammel’s perky beats for a sublime ride.

Dec. 31. The Knitting Factory, 74 Leonard St. (betw. B’way & Church St.), 212-219-3132; 10:30, $20.

Etching a face on the downtown jazz and experimental scene isn’t a daunting task: It begins and ends with John Zorn. A master composer and saxophone player, his avant-garde gamut of work adheres to no conventional template. It was 1991 when I was first introduced to Zorn’s music, by way of a Sonic Youth concert. His metallic free-jazz band, Painkiller, opened the show, delivering a monolithic skronk like I’ve never heard, therefore making the Sonic’s “noise” seem like easy listening. Ultimately, I would discover Zorn’s brilliant Hebrew-skewed jazz group, Masada, and the radical music he puts out on his own record label, Tzadik. If that’s not enough, Zorn now operates The Stone, a not-for-profit performance space on Avenue C, which hands all proceeds to the musicians playing there. After a benefit for The Stone on Jan. 30, Zorn heads over to Norfolk Street on New Year’s Eve for what will surely be an experimentally tasty, cacophonous trifecta, as he joins forces with oft-collaborators, Guy Licata and bassist Bill Laswell.

Dec. 31. Tonic, 107 Norfolk St. (betw. Delancey & Rivington Sts.), 212-358-7501; 8, $30.