It's a coldblooded world when a man has to pawn his shoes," T-Bone Walker sings on his 1951 Imperial single "Alimony Blues." It's still a coldblooded world, but without the recordings of the blues singer and pioneering electric guitarist T-Bone Walker, it would be even colder. And without Walker, it's difficult to imagine what classic recordings by singer-guitarists as diverse as B.B. King and Chuck Berry would have sounded like. For these and many other electric-guitar innovators, Walker simply wrote the book. His involvement with music spanned the long, crucial period from the rise of country blues in the Twenties (when he led Blind Lemon Jefferson from bar to bar in Dallas and made a 1929 recording of his own as Oak Cliff T-Bone) to the earliest years of the electric guitar (when he teamed up with the jazz guitarist Charlie Christian to play on street corners) to the birth of rock & roll.

The Complete Imperial Recordings, 1950-1954 catches Walker at his peak. "Call It Stormy Monday (but Tuesday Is Just As Bad)" made him a star in the Forties; by 1950 he ruled the blues circuit from California to the Midwest. For those who want to follow Walker's development from the early days, a six-CD set, The Complete Recordings of T-Bone Walker, 1940-1954, is available by mail from Mosaic Records (35 Melrose Place, Stamford, CT 06902). But if you just want to hear T-Bone wail, The Complete Imperial Recordings, 1950-1954, a two-disc box compiled by blues maven Pete Welding, is the way to go. EMI's remastering handily eclipses Mosaic's discs; it's possible for the first time to get a rounded picture of Walker's guitar sound. It's always seemed dry, almost brittle, but on this set we get the silvery, high harmonics, the dynamics and the warmth as well. The bands on these sides are uniformly excellent. When they're on the jazzy side, T-Bone sounds as comfortable as Charlie Christian would have, but it's still the blues. And when the music rocks, watch out. These are timeless performances – there's not a mediocre track in the set.

The impact of Walker's linear lead-guitar stylings has been international in scope, but generations of Texas guitarists have been particularly affected. Houston's Albert Collins, who later became a blues star on Alligator Records, is definitely one of T-Bone's children. But of all the Texas-bred blues guitarists, Collins may well be the most original. Playing with his fingers, no picks, and with his guitar capoed more than halfway up the neck, Collins fires off intense bursts of twangy, penetrating lead lines and tone clusters. And while Walker was a flowing, hornlike soloist, Collins roots his phrasing and timing in speech inflections. He is, among many other things, the first guitarist to make his axe spit out "Fuck you, motherfucker" so plainly that everybody gets the point.

Collins's Complete Imperial Recordings dates from 1969-70, when he was already a seasoned touring musician and had recorded some instrumental singles and an album for small Texas labels. Bob Hite and Henry Vestine of Canned Heat were largely responsible for getting Collins his first major-label recording contract; the result was the three albums collected in the new EMI two-disc box. Bill Hall, who'd produced groundbreaking Collins singles like "Frosty," was still in charge for the three Imperial LPs, the most striking of which was Trash Talkin'.

These sessions exude an unmistakable late-Sixties ambience, a casual "Hey, let's get stoned and jam some blues" approach. Some songs, especially a couple of loopy forays into zydeco, were probably recorded in Texas. But the bulk of the material was taped in Memphis, with a backing group that would soon be the Atlantic Records house band at Miami's Criteria studio, the Dixie Flyers.

Apparently, a number of these performances were thrown together in the studio. But everyone is playing hard, especially Collins. And some tunes – the Meters-influenced "Do the Sissy" and the talking-guitar showcases "Conversation With Collins" and "Trash Talkin'" – are definitive Albert Both Collins's earlier singles and the best of his Alligator albums are more disciplined than these Imperial sides. But there's a rare spontaneity, a sense of musicians discovering themselves and each other.

EMI's Collins set isn't in a class with the T-Bone Walker collection, which is essential listening. But when Collins's guitar is cussin' a blue streak, it's positively ... endearing. (RS 617)

ROBERT PALMER