In 1964, when tasked with defining hardcore pornography, Justice Potter Stewart stated, “I know it when I see it.”

In many ways, glam rock faces the same taxonomic difficulty. I’m not sure I could ever dissect and identify the specific elements that make something glam rock. I have tried and failed many times to explain to someone what makes Electric Warrior by T. Rex such a perfect record. I just know that when glam hits, few things are sweeter.

And Mott by Mott the Hoople is sweet.

While Mott the Hoople is best known (to me anyway) for their Bowie-penned “All the Young Dudes,” Mott proves that they can write glam anthems (glamthems?) with the best of them. While the previous albums were filled with covers by Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and Bowie, the compositions here are entirely original.

“All The Way From Memphis” opens the album with a rollicking rock and roll song (like, Little Richard style rock and roll) about a rock and roller who’s burnt out on rock and roll. “Violence” is a glam epic bursting with strings and so much swagger you can practically hear the glitter falling off of Ian Hunter’s platform boots. “I’m A Cadillac/El Camino Dolo Roso” is an eight-minute suite that begins with a hard rock riff and ends with the most furious slide guitar solo David Gilmour never wrote. “I Wish I Was Your Mother” strips away the electricity for a mandolin-laden tribute to Dylan.

Hunter’s voice lives somewhere between Bowie and Dylan, ranging from a triumphant bellow to a defeated moan. He bends the piano to his will. Mick Ralphs’ lead guitar is liquid magma, igniting everything around him while “Overend” and “Buffin” hold down the rhythm section.

But glam rock isn’t glam rock because of guitar solos or instrumental proficiency. It’s glam because of the attitude. And nothing is sacred on Mott. The songs are dripping with so much irony that they swing back around to being earnest. The group plays like a group of actors attempting to parody rock and roll, and they end up creating a truly great rock and roll album.

And if that isn’t the heart of glam rock, what is?