With any degree show, there is always a worry that the hubbub of new artists making key last- minute adjustments to their exhibitions or the hurry of gallerists and collectors rushing to snap up the work of the most promising graduates will cloud the judgment, with the adrenalin-soaked atmosphere raising works above their status.

This year, though, there's no doubt that the overall standard at the Glasgow School of Art is high - higher than it has been in three, perhaps four, years - a fact reflected by the unusual number of first-class degrees awarded.

Some graduates do, however, stand out thanks to a touch of showmanship. Mark Wylie's installation features a pressure pad that, when stepped on, prompts a wail of feedback. The blast of sound will certainly make you take notice, but closer inspection reveals that this is more than attention-grabbing bluster: the speaker vibrates a dust-topped platform, forming patterns on the surface, and making for a subtle sculpture defined by the viewer's actions.

Christopher Dixon also relies on surprise. His large, pristine white cube assembled from boxes might be shrugged off as a half-decent chunk of minimalism, but when seen from above, the cube contains a complex, gentle and delicate tangle of sculptural forms made from thin wires and polystyrene packing materials.

The crafters of complete environments have an advantage, too, and the best of them can make you completely forget the clamour of their colleague's work, even if only for a moment. In Elizabeth West's installation, faint bands of yellow light on the wall of a constructed corridor act as a lure, leading to a cramped room with a thin slot in the wall that affords a view of a mirrored chamber filled with plastic detritus, reflection upon reflection creating the illusion of infinite space.

Rachel Szmuckler, meanwhile, asks visitors to crawl, like Gulliver in Lilliput, into a claustrophobic L-shaped cubicle, plastered with eye-bending black and white check patterns and populated with female figures dancing through the space.

Quieter artists flourish, too. Keep an eye out for the vibrant, movement-filled, remarkably fluent drawings of Florencia Guerberof, and Triona Ryan's self-portraits which match a keen understanding of colour with nods to old masters.

The artists who truly stand out do so because a glance at their work is enough to tell that they are not merely promising prospects, but fully-fledged, having forged a cohesive, coherent practice of the sort more usually seen in emerging artists than brand-new graduates.

Nafeesa Umar's sculptural work in paper - a cascade of interlocking geometric forms - and architectural maquettes of ascending staircases provide a subtle counterpoint to the more explicit consideration of her Muslim faith seen in her video work.

Pio Abad is already hotly tipped - his work graces the exhibition posters, as well as earning him a place in the finals of the Mercury Prize Art Competition. Abad's intricate drawings revel in and satirise excess, drawing on Baroque influences and the pomp of eighteenth-century fashion, while a sculpture crafted from powdered wigs sits in a room lined with obscenely opulent hand-printed wallpaper.

Interestingly, the large-scale paintings of Clair McGee feature similar motifs and she, too, has papered the walls of her exhibition space. McGee, though, is chiefly concerned with architectural space and its influence on its inhabitants - tiny figures are dwarfed by the vaulted interiors of dilapidated palaces, with hints that each painting in the series can be found through the doors of another.

Cheryl Field also stands head and shoulders above her fellow graduates. Her work might briefly be described as "kinetic Op-Art", but that does the complexity and rigour of her practice a disservice. One piece consists of a circle described by vertical lines that seem to shimmer off the wall, an effect doubled by the vibrating chord that stretches from floor to ceiling before it. Another combines concentric circles with a pure white light, this time creating a wholly illusory sense of movement. These are, literally, mesmerising works, made all the more satisfying by their mixing of art-historical critique and a cool, experimental edge.

Lastly, Salome C Oggenfuss's unassuming and often humorous exhibit slowly reveals itself to be truly worthy of attention. Candid, revealing photographic portraits are set against whimsical text pieces, and Oggenfuss acknowledges the commercial realities of the art world by setting up shop - her luridly-coloured and foul-mouthed slogan T-shirts will doubtless become a familiar sight around town.

There is chaff to go with the wheat, of course - as in previous years, the crop of uninspired, insipid portraiture by photography students stands out for all the wrong reasons - but this is without doubt a good year, with genuine flashes of brilliance to be found in the warren of studio spaces and dim corridors of the Mackintosh Building.

  • The 2007 Degree Show is at the Glasgow School of Art until June 23.