In 2011, one of the best sports movies ever made was released, and no one really noticed. If you haven't seen it - and most people haven't - do yourself a favor and check it out. The movie's called Goon, and it tells the underdog story of Doug, who, despite not really being able to skate, ends up on a professional hockey team because of his talent for beating people up. He becomes an enforcer, a goon, the guy who gets called out on the ice for the express purpose of laying out members of the opposing team. Doug, sweet and stupid, is a violent man with a big, dopey heart, and the movie that tells his story is similarly kind and bloody. Goon manages to be both a self-aware commentary on sports movies, and a fantastic example of the genre.

Los Angles outfit Goon also finds its charm in simplicity and muscularity, piling catchy hooks on top of each other with booming instrumentation and street-level lyrics. Their recently released Dusk of Punk EP announces itself loud and clear with opening track "Dizzy," which positively drips with Weezer vibes. In general, Goon's sound finds its cozy home in ‘90s LA alt-rock. For many of their songs, it's near impossible to listen to Goon without your sense memory conjuring images of a skateboarding video shot on VHS. "Green Peppers," with its cheap drum machine backing and summery acoustic guitar finds Goon surprisingly capturing late ‘90s radio pop, even as the rough lead vocals of Kenny Becker might sound more comfortable on a compilation alongside acts like the Flaming Lips.

In the brief moments when Goon plays with experimentation, it's in spacey interludes like the one that closes out "Green Peppers," before the band comes exploding back with punk-ish bursts like "Merchant Halls." It's in these brief, squealing sprints of gnarled guitars and voices that Goon allows itself to embrace their college rock influences and mess around with a Pixies vibe; the tune even includes tossed-off Spanish lyrics that recall Frank Black's writing style. Here and elsewhere, the smell of stale beer and the heat of sweaty mosh pits practically oozes through the speakers.

This isn't angry music - even if one song is actually titled "Gay Rage," though its abstruse lyrics don't quite reveal the true message - but, rather, cathartic music that invites a night spent dancing frowns and knotted shoulders away. Speaking of Pixies, Caleb Wicker's lead guitar, at times, plays like a machine programmed to emulate Joey Santiago's signature style of elegantly attacking the listener; it's both crude and sophisticated, much like Goon itself. "Gay Rage," in particular, finds strength in that attack, revealing a more foreboding vision of Goon that doesn't really get played up in their more unassuming songs.

Playing Goon for my friend, she lamented that ‘90s music is getting a nostalgic reboot in the form of bands bringing back those sonic touchstones. To me, it's just like anything else: we've grown used to bands mixing and matching ‘60s or ‘80s sounds like a Crayola 64 Pack, but for bands to bring back the ‘90s can feel, to some, like strangers tail-gating on our lawn. Music's cyclical, though; it no longer exists in a straight line, with innovation after innovation creating an ever-lengthening string of invention. Part of the beauty of what the internet has wrought is the ability for talented individuals to reach into a sack of musical suggestions and pull out familiar-yet-disparate sounds that are ripe for combining.

In their humble way, Goon is a band that can sound both well-known and new. They're also a band that would never say such hifalutin things about themselves as I have.

Goon, w/ Young Jesus, FairLady, the Lightweight Champs, Sonic Obsession, 6 p.m., Tuesday, Jan. 24, $7, all ages, Real Art, 5412 S. Tacoma Way, Tacoma, realarttacoma.com