MUSIC REVIEWS : Standout Records by San Diego Artists : * Albums: New albums by Mark DeCerbo and Earl Thomas are outstanding efforts and deserve a good hearing.

In recent weeks, two albums have been released on Hollywood music mogul Herb Cohen’s resurrected Bizarre-Straight label. It’s not a coincidence that both artists are prominent on the San Diego music scene: Cohen has been fishing local waters for a couple of years.

In Mark DeCerbo (“Baby’s Not in the Mood” and Earl Thomas (“Blue . . . not Blues”), Cohen has two trophy-worthy catches.

Fans, friends and more-objective followers of DeCerbo’s career--as leader of the local band Four Eyes, as a solo performer and as a member of the vintage-rock band, Rockola--can all name the guitarist-vocalist’s signature song. “(Baby’s Not) In the Mood” is a medium-tempo ballad with a plaintive melody and sadly acquiescent lyrics that contradict the title’s suggestion of wink-wink naughtiness. The tune has become so closely associated with DeCerbo’s style that it was an obvious choice for the title of his debut album.

Probably owing to time-honored industry dictates about opening albums with grab-’em-quick (i.e. catchy, up-tempo) material, however, “(Baby’s Not) In the Mood” is buried in the middle of this 11-song opus. As it turns out, the song’s placement is propitious because those that precede it demonstrate a talent for tunefulness that cannot be exhausted by any single effort. By the time the listener reaches “(Baby’s Not) In the Mood,” he is convinced of DeCerbo’s resourcefulness as a songwriter and that his debut is one of the best albums of the year.

DeCerbo is a master of that melody-heavy brand of pop that was pioneered by Buddy Holly, Roy Orbison and the Everly Brothers, then Anglo-filtered by Lennon-McCartney, and finally re-Yankee-fied by such tunesmiths as Stephen Bishop and Richard X. Heyman. That trans-Atlantic shuffle is literally showcased in the album’s only cover, a hearty version of the Beatles’ “Hold Me Tight.” DeCerbo’s own songs illustrate the contemporization of the style.

“Mama, Through the Years” is a paean to the universal mother with a buoyant, sing-along chorus, but it avoids greeting-card sentimentality by focusing on the historical resiliency, rather than on the passive-supportive nature of women. “Blue in Clover” and “Curtains” are lyrical love songs in the Orbison- McCartney mold--a natural stylistic platform for DeCerbo’s wonderful voice. And “(Baby’s Not) In the Mood,” nurtured by lovely production values that complement the tune’s lush melodicism without swamping it in goo, lives up to its reputation as DeCerbo’s tour de force.

The title track acts as a sort of demarcation on this album; thereafter, the material gets progressively sweaty. “Anvil of Love” pushes the bright-pop approach into Squeeze territory with a jaunty dance track; “Find the Time” is an R&B-rock; grinder in the “Tumblin’ Dice” vein; “Woo Ya” is funky pop; “Contagious,” “Knotty Pines,” and “House on the Edge of the Tracks” are sterling examples of rockin’, post-Wings pop abetted by imaginative studio effects.

DeCerbo is ably assisted on this album by others familiar to followers of local music, including co-arranger Mike Keneally (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Rockola’s Bob Tedde (guitars, vocals), and the Mighty Penguins’ Paul Kimbarow (drums). “Name” players include Ambrosia drummer Burleigh Drummond (percussion); Mr. Mister member and XTC studio drummer, Pat Mastelotto; and George Duke-Luther Vandross bassist Byron Miller.

If there’s a downside to “Baby’s Not in the Mood” (for some reason, the album title omits the parentheses found on the single’s title), it is the recording’s generally thin sound. The songs and performances merit a fuller, deeper field than is provided by co-producers DeCerbo and Bob Duffey. For whatever reason, the richness that envelops the title song is otherwise missing in what frequently sounds like a “reference” mix.

But DeCerbo’s impressive craft overcomes such shortcomings. “Baby’s Not in the Mood” is further proof that the lights of San Diego’s oft-maligned music scene are capable of producing music equal to that anywhere on the globe.

Last August, when Earl Thomas and the Blues Ambassadors won “Best Blues” honors in the San Diego Music Awards, the vote presumably was more a reflection of regard for Thomas’ flamboyant live performances than a reaction to his 1990 album, “I Sing the Blues.”

This independently produced, locally released compilation was a commendable effort that sold in modest numbers in the San Diego area. With the recent release of his “official” debut album, however, Thomas becomes a recording artist, and fans will have to judge the work on that basis.

“Blue . . . not Blues” is both a literal reworking of “I Sing the Blues” (many of the tracks recorded in San Diego were rerecorded in Orange County) and an expansion on it. The differences between the titles, though, are instructive. With the new effort, Thomas asserts that, after all, he is not a blues singer in the purest sense, but a vocalist capable of convoking any number of influences--R&B;, gospel, rock ‘n’ roll--while performing in a blues context.

Of the album’s 10 tracks (written by Thomas and/or arranger Phil Wooten), only three can claim a blues pedigree without asterisks: “I Sing the Blues,” “I Ain’t Ready (to Give Up on Your Love)” and “Nothing Left to Lose.”

Of the others, “What I’ve Got to Do” and “Your Love” could be filed under the “soul music” heading; “I’ll Be Here” and “Baby Please Don’t Cry” recall the “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” soul-blues of Otis Redding; “The Way She Shakes That Thang” and “Special Lovin’ ” light their wicks with the flame of Joe Turner-style R&B; and “I Won’t Be Around” closes the album with a strutting rakishness reminiscent of vintage Bobby Womack.

Thomas’s ability to move gracefully among these distinct but related styles is a tribute not only to his eclecticism (his singing invites comparisons to each of the above-mentioned artists), but also to his understated approach. Perhaps because he lacks the multi-octave range of some vocalists, Thomas eschews the histrionics we’ve come to expect from singers who try to play all their cards on every cut. Instead, he condenses his expressiveness into taut, emotive phrases and interpretive inflections.

Because Thomas renders to each song only what it demands, one is encouraged to make repeat visits to the “Blue...” album in an effort to plumb its subtle treasures, which are abundant. The contributions of guitarist Eric Lieberman and mouth-harpist Paco Shipp, especially, deserve to be singled out. Lieberman’s serrated fills and solos remind one of a young Mike Bloomfield, while Shipp’s Jr. Wells-like harp work is colorative, and not merely an obligatory garnish.

I might have sequenced the songs differently; “I Sing the Blues” and “What I’ve Got to Do” are too similar in their middling tempos to give the album a proper liftoff. But that’s a minor point when discussing an album as varied and rewarding as this one. Thomas’ personality might best be expressed in his live shows, but on his first, industry-wide release, he proves that he has the goods to be much more than just entertaining.