In a previous life Jams and Bobby Evans were known as Brother Reade, the beloved, LA local heroes who even Pitchfork liked (giving their "Rap Music" a 7.4). They bonded with fellow DIY heads No Age and Cali Dewett's Teenage Teardrops label whilst playing at The Smell and regular house parties across east LA. Kind of awesome for a rap group who were simultaneously supporting Clipse and Wu-Tang at festivals across the US and remixing Telepathe and Neon Neon.

But Brother Reade was laid to rest when the band had decided that the music had outgrown the project. As interim inspiration, they decided to write an album written solely on two drum kits. Untitled, unreleased and therefore unheard to most, this is the heavy chant of Widows - a collection of deft, narrative hard hitting songs almost exclusively rhythmic, where "smart" and "banging" are not mutually exclusive. Tales where impossible things happen that are nevertheless true.

These are basic human elements: drums and stories, but Widows work this minimal framework into something bizarrely beautiful. And this is all made even more bizarre by one fact: it is easily mistaken for mere dance music. Or rap music.