Electric Warrior

Given they were teen Mod rivals, pals and frustrated wannabes in the 1960s before both quickly bypassed mere stardom for glam rock superstar deity status, the comparisons between Marc Bolan and David Bowie is endlessly fascinating. But there the comparisons end. While Bowie endlessly transmuted with each record, Bolan chased repetitive and diminishing returns until his fatal car crash in 1977. While Bowie killed off Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars 18 months after launching him, Bolan's 1974 album Zinc Alloy and the Hidden Riders of Tomorrow was a bizarre gesture of solidarity, or simply a lame parody. Yet Bolan's crowning glory is still a beauty - a slice of solid gold easy action, as a later T. Rex single put it.

This needs repeating as Bolan's reputation is one of pop frivolity, more Gary Glitter than Ziggy or Aladdin. But for four years, from Tyrannosaurus Rex's Unicorn and A Beard of Stars albums through the abbreviated name's self-titled debut and Electric Warrior (1972's The Slider was too patchy to continue the run), Bolan shone, with his corkscrew hair, pioneering dabs of glitter and Larry-the-Lamb-like warble.

Brilliantly arranged by (Bowie's former producer/bandmate) Tony Visconti, the album blends 50s retro distilled from Chuck Berry with modern camp thrust, infused with what Bowie's tribute Lady Stardust called, "an animal grace". Even before Bowie, Bolan had unlocked Pandora's Box for all the young dudes and dudettes bored by their brothers and sisters' Beatles and Stones records, and the opening Mambo Sun nails that sea change. Over a sinewy, clipped guitar riff and echoed drum beat, Bolan breathlessly announces "Beneath the be-bop moon/I wanna croon with you," throws in his first "owwww!" and takes a bluesy brief guitar solo full of animal grace.

Cosmic Dancer (later covered by Morrissey) follows, an ecstatic dream ballad with darkly contrasting cellos that single-handedly confirms Bolan's brilliance. Then again, the song's couplet - "What's it like to be a loon? I liken it to a balloon" - confirmed his any-rhyme-will-do laziness that predicted his creative collapse. But in the face of Get It On and Jeepster - both outrageously hook-lined and joyous smash hit singles - and the delicate croon of Life's a Gas, the jittery finale Rip Off and the less-acknowledged beauties Girl and Planet Queen, Bolan's slithery swagger is irresistible.

In the box set version, this re-mastered, annotated 40th anniversary edition has all the unreleased demos, out-takes and DVD footage you could crave, but the original 11 tracks are all anyone truly needs. As Bowie's Starman put it: "Let all the children boogie." Ziggy knew that Marc had got there first.

Hot on the heels of its 30th anniversary re-release, the SACD version of T.Rex's most consistent album still deserves to have its praises sung. Think of glam and you probably focus on the 1972-4 heyday with acts veering from the sublime (Bowie, Roxy etc) to the ridiculous (Mud, Gary Glitter...Jobriath anyone?). Yet this slice of pop heaven was on the shelves by autumn 1971, making it officially the first glam album in the world. What's even more amazing is how fresh it still sounds.

Bolan himself was never one to avoid a trend. In his own mind he was always a star: Stories abound of his early days as a persistent chancer in mod/psychedelic London. Yet, if John's Children and Tyrannosaurus Rex didn't hold the keys to his inevitable stardom they certainly allowed him to learn the tricks that would flower on his first hit ''Ride A White Swan''. This was the point at which he and long-term producer Tony Visconti took the hippy-dippy lyrics and Larry the lamb vocal stylings and bolted them on to good old stripped-down, four-to-the-floor rock 'n' roll. For four glorious years they never looked back...

With superb sleevenotes by Visconti himself, it must never be forgotten that this is as much his album as Bolan's (not forgetting Mickey Finn's radical bongos, ho ho). Visconti was behind so much of the glam-defining process that his name becomes synonymous with the genre. On this and Bowie's early work (Space Oddity, Man Who Sold The World) he creates a warm, spacey reverb-drenched world full of hip-thrusting libido and pouty tongue-twisting. Bolan's lyrics often approach 'back of a bus ticket' status in their throw-away couplets (''Girl'', ''Motivator'' etc.), but what shines through is the irrepressible fun the whole team seem to be having. The two monster hits (''Get It On'' and ''Jeepster'') still stand as monuments to pop concision. Nonsensical rhyme riding on swaggering guitar and drums.

Add to this at least two other utter classics (the frenzied funk of ''Rip Off'' and the touching ballad ''Life's A Gas'') and not one real filler and you've got an album that's always going to sound box fresh: 5.1 surround sound just adds a little icing on the cake. Life's still a gas...