For all the controversy and media feedback surrounding glitter rock, its presence on America's Top 40 charts, in comparison to Britain's, has been negligible. To be sure, Rod, Alice and, of course, the Stones—if one is to lump them into the glam bag—have had million-sellers.

Bolan's "Bang A Gong" resounded, Mott's "All the Young Dudes" provoked a few transformations in certain radio markets and Lou Reed's invitation to take a "Walk on the Wild Side" was accepted by several hundred thousand folks. Yet Slade is still waiting to cash in stateside and even Bowie himself cannot really fall asleep at night as a rock & roll star if topping the Hot 100 is the criterion.

While all the putative glitter luminaries have launched American offensives, a British quartet known as the Sweet has been selling singles like proverbial flapjacks in their homeland. And I think they could very well be the first exponents of glam to chalk up an impressive AM track record in America.

In fact, the Sweet is already on its way to US triumph on the strength of last spring's smash "Little Willie," an infectious, pounding piece of highly formulaic pop that substantiated the group's place in the grand tradition of such English bubblegum bosses as the Small Faces, the Herd, and Dave, Dee, etc. through its insistent, heel-kicking rhythm and melody, vocals bolstered by chorus and heavy guitar underpinnings. Ohio Express confections meet the early, hard-changing Led Zep and therein lies the joy of listening to almost every cut on the Sweet's American debut LP, which is comprised of their recent English hit singles and B sides.

Like their American bubblegum predecessors, the Sweet is a thoroughly anonymous unit whose biggest hits, namely "Little Willie" and the equally incessant "Wig-Wam Bam," "Hell Raiser" and the delightfully maniacal "Blockbuster," were written expressly for them by a team named Chinn and Chapman, who are currently turning out English Number Ones for Suzi Quatro. Presumably the surnames of the four Sweets are Connolly, Scott, Tucker and Priest, for those are the monikers given composer credit on the remaining six numbers.

Whoever they are, the Sweet are predictably comely; their collective look of pristine pop-star from working-class origins is, of course, perfect. Musically, the singer has assimilated the best of Marriot and Plant (listen to "New York Connection," which sounds like a Small Faces raver, or "Need a Lot of Lovin'," a dead ringer for Zep's "Communication Breakdown").

The band has most assuredly done its homework while listening to the Beck Yardbirds (guitar break on "Man From Mecca," a feedbacker that reincarnates vintage "Happenings 10 Years Time Ago" Beck), the Zep, the Who, the Small Faces and (thankfully), to a lesser degree, Jethro Tull and Black Sabbath.

Of the ten cuts, eight are bonafide time bombs, set to explode within three minutes and performed with diabolically calculated flash. The only two duds are the mannered "Spotlight" and a stiff, out-of-place bow to CSN&Y called "You're Not Wrong for Loving Me."

Eighty percent of the material herein would make you want to crank up the car radio and do wheelies for hours on end. The Sweet's American debut album is Seventies bubblegum-power pop at its summit. (RS 146)

JAMES ISAACS