There's a saying where I come from: Never write a check with your mouth that you can't cash with your ass. For months, Goodwin's frontman Tony Diaz and his boys have been threatening to make a great rock album. Now, it's put-up-or-shut-up time.

From the opening "Song," Goodwin delivers the goods, capturing the dynamism of the band's live show and throwing into brilliant relief the exquisite pop sense of guitarist Daniel Gomez' songwriting. Quite simply, it's the best rock album I've heard in five years (since Turbonegro's Apocalypse Dudes, if you're wondering). But while Goodwin's a band with more than a little humor on stage, there's a lot more heart in this debut than there was in Turbonegro's tongue-in-cheek homage to arena rock clichés.

Much of Goodwin's sonic impact has to do with Damien Stewart's drumming. An elfin onstage presence whose sparkling trapwork formerly anchored Pablo and the Hemphill 7's reggae groove, Stewart proves equally adept at pounding out the brawny rhythms behind a Rawk-with-a-capital-R unit. His contribution is particularly evident on the re-recorded tunes from Goodwin's demo e.p., but overall, he dominates the proceedings in the same way Keith Moon did on the first half-dozen Who albums. Locking it in the pocket with Matt Hembree's nimble, melodic bass lines, Stewart drives Goodwin like a runaway locomotive.

These days, record labels are fixated on The Big Song, and there are six or seven of those here: anthemic, hook-laden, awe-inspiring. The current fave at my house is "March," which Gomez has said started life as an indictment of the music scene's drone-like conformity but eventually evolved into something far more stirring. "If you see it for yourself, and you know it for yourself, you can march by yourself," Diaz sings. Before the kiddie porn allegations, the Who's Pete Townshend once declared, "Rock 'n' roll isn't about rebellion, it's about triumph." For proof positive, hear Goodwin.

11pm Fri in the lounge at Ridglea Theater, 6025 Camp Bowie Blvd, FW. 817-738-9500.