Small Fry, Big Energy

It’s an epic task, summarizing and anthologizing 20 years of the punk and alternative rock that grew from Orange County’s fertile seedbed. Probably only one person, Jim Guerinot, the leading O.C. music mogul to have emerged from that movement, is capable of pulling it off--if he wants to attempt a box set on the subject, with all the permissions and financial negotiation that a suitably inclusive O.C. “best of” would require.

Guerinot has a record company, Laguna Beach-based Time Bomb, to release this hypothetical opus, and as manager of Social Distortion, the Offspring and No Doubt, he presumably could deliver three of its essential building blocks.

Meanwhile, some little guys are doing their best with what they can get.

Superkool, an obscure label in Fountain Valley, has released “O.C.’s 5400 Day Revolution” as the musical companion to an upcoming documentary film with the same awkward, non sequitur title. (Twenty years is 7,305 days; 5,400 days, a bit less than 15 years, might have something to do with the period from 1979--when the O.C. scene coalesced after some initial stirrings in ‘78--and 1994, when the Offspring’s hit album “Smash” finally focused mainstream attention on a movement previously familiar only to alterna-rock cognoscenti).

There are no heavy-hitters among this compilation’s 47 tracks--half of them never before released--sprawled over two CDs, which have a combined playing time of 136 minutes.

But the implicit point “5400” makes is the most important one that can be made about any local scene: that its vitality is measured not by the hits it generates, but by the creative energy, numerical critical mass, artistic standards and resilience of its small fry.

To put it another way: If the plankton and seaweed aren’t nutritious, no community’s pop ocean is going to spawn healthy whales.

As a listening experience, Disc One is spotty. It tries to cover too much stylistic ground with pop-punk, hard-core punk, ska and a couple of roots-rock departures. Some of it is ordinary at best.

Disc Two is the keeper: Nearly every track achieves the rocking thrust and melodic lift that are the signatures of the best Orange County alterna-rock.

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Disc One features two relics from 1979 by bands that are still going today. “America” is from Agent Orange’s first recording sessions; it combines surf-punk and rockabilly strains while delivering an uncharacteristic political salvo against the military draft. It’s a historical artifact, but it is hardly a signal moment in Agent Orange’s creative history.

The Crowd is captured live at O.C.’s seminal punk club, the Cuckoo’s Nest, where the band careens like a decomposing jalopy through a catchy rocker, “Modern Machine.” It’s an inept but energized performance that exemplifies early punk’s moxie-over-skill ethic.

Other Disc One highlights include Cadillac Tramps’ sizzling “It’s Alright,” which nevertheless is hardly their most memorable or most distinctive song, “Kind,” by My Superhero, the pick of the compilation’s litter of ska-rock bands, and “She’s My,” a gritty, catchy merger of punk, garage-rock, and ‘60s girl-group stylings from 4Gazm.

Mike Conley is heard doing Cockney-accented credit to his Clash influences in 1984, as front man of MIA, and in 1996, leading the short-lived Jigsaw. Present-day garage-rockers Dodge Dart rollick with the snide but appealing “Jesus Ain’t My Friend,” sounding like the Beach Boys playing in the mud instead of the sand.

Disc Two begins with a so-so run at Billy Joel’s “Big Shot” by Big Drill Car, then doesn’t stop delivering the goods (among them a never-released nugget from the Goods, the early-’90s Costa Mesa band fronted by Tony Scalzo, now of Fastball).

It’s gratifying how well a sequence of heavy-rock numbers works along with the leaner, more sprinting songs that dominate the disc. The defunct I Own the Sky offers an appealing take on Seattle grunge, the emphatic Volume gets psychedelic and fuzzy, like some of Soundgarden’s stuff, and 16 and Lidsville pummel with flair.

There’s plenty to delight lovers of melodic alterna-rock. Gameface’s “Last of the Good Guys” and Farside’s jangling Gin Blossom-like “Hope You’re Unhappy” sound a plaintive note; Tub, Doom Kounty Electric Chair, the Women and Fuzzpop serve up hooks with grit.

Relish ventures into psychodrama with a sound somewhere between Throwing Muses and Sleater-Kinney, the Fireants do their Patti Smith rockin’ poet thing with aplomb and humor, and cuts from National People’s Gang and Eli Riddle are fine blasts from O.C.’s non-punk past.

Film Star intrigues, as always, with “Spirit of the Night.” The song has elements of mock-epic spoof in its stentorian delivery and gothic imagery, but the Costa Mesa band makes this anthem a memorable flight into the dark orbit of Blue Oyster Cult and Deep Purple.

Cal Channel, a new band of Costa Mesa rock veterans, including Big Drill Car alum Frank Daly on vocals, makes a fine first impression with the Wilco-like, rough-edged lament, “Stuff for Sale.”

“Shot Heard ‘Round the World,” a new song by the reliably strong Supernovice, best sums up the compilation’s intent, and perhaps it should have been its title track. Singer Dave Turbow observes that trends come and go, lifting some of his less-qualified O.C. rock neighbors to national fame, and rededicates himself to the pursuit of “What never ends: magnificent sound.”

“O.C.’s 5400 Day Revolution” proves that the scene whose grass roots it honors has a rich and enduring stock of talented, if not very famous, rockers who can hit that mark.

(Available from Superkool Records, Box 20184 Fountain Valley, CA 92728; spkrecords@earthlink.net.)

* Albums are rated on a scale of * (poor) to **** (excellent), with *** denoting a solid recommendation.