Monday morning. London is covered with a thick, sparkling white icing, more snow than at any point over the last twenty years. Some are overjoyed at getting the day off work, and busy themselves making snowmen in the garden (my neighbour made a crap one. “Where are his arms?”, I asked. “A snowman needs arms”. He looked blankly). Some stay in and update their Twitter/Facebook status to something suitably OMG-ish. Some, presumably having freshly immigrated from the wilds of the Sahara or Shit-for-brains-itania, are seemingly “confused and distressed” by the unfolding events. As for me, I took a walk down the freezing cold street to the park with a big child-like grim on my face, listening to Emeralds’ new album. This really put goosebumps on my goosebumps.

Everyone (notably The Wire, who launched it straight in their Top 10 for 2008) fell for Emeralds’ Solar Bridge mini-album last year. A pleasingly symmetrical two track affair, featuring shimmering guitar drones and spacey kraut synths. Their new full length album on the ever-exciting No Fun lives up to the expectation they have created. It is an unexpectedly busier, more expansive effort, full of unexpected detours off that most Popol Vuh of paths. Swoonsome opener “Alive In The Sea Of Information” tests all the settings on the synth from bleep to burble, before dissolving in a bath of “baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”. This is followed by the incredible “Damaged Kids” which begins like a BBC Radiophonic experiment by Delia Derbyshire or Daphne Oram, all panning whooshes and palpable weirdness. About five minutes later a guitar chimes in amongst sonic chirrup, rising up to a fulsome and savage drone before paring back to an ominous low rumble. After the comparatively diffident and diffuse “Up In The Air”, the lengthy “Living Room” is another inspired piece of improvisation, delicate keyboard and guitar figures gradually being subsumed into a deep well of static. The album melts away like snow dripping from trees with “Disappearing Ink”, as stately as an undiscovered Cluster/Eno instrumental, leaving a still and reflective pool.

Considering it was recorded on various dates at various places over the last few years, What Happened sounds surprisingly suited to a snowy stroll in North London in February 2009. What’s more, I’m guessing it will endure long after the armless iceman in next door’s garden has becometh mere hat and carrot. I bought it from Second Layer; I suggest you do likewise.