MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR Review – Motorcycle Test

MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR Review

Despite sharing some family resemblance to the Dragster 800 RR I’ve been ogling endlessly, its big Brutale brother definitely goes its own way. Even a casual glance tells you this thing means business. The Italian Hyper Naked has a look that is all muscle. It’s an outrageous, imposing, intimidating-looking machine. You are left with no doubt there is some serious brawn beneath that fine Italian styling.

Let’s start with the drivelinem because almost all its angles are dominated by that 998 cc in-line four-cylinder powerhouse, as well as everything needed to keep feeding it the requisite diet of fuel and air, prevent it from overheating, and then get the resulting power to the ground. Visually, it’s as though MV Agusta asked exactly how much radiator, engine, gearbox and exhaust could be accommodated, and then added another 10 per cent.

I like the aesthetic. And although the stylists have put in just as much time and energy into this bike as they did into the Dragster, it has a very different feel to it. It still has masses of wonderfully-executed design details, and some would say it’d overdone, but I think it just takes a bit of time to appreciate it all. It is exquisitely finished, too, I should add. It is fairly dripping with the build-quality that reflects the price tag, which we’ll get to in a bit.

You can quickly spot those quad pipes. While not as elegant as those first seen on the first F4 models all those years ago, they are no less impressive from an aural-symphony point of view.

At idle, the bike sounds not unlike many other high-compression sports bikes, and in this guise, the Brutale runs 13.4:1 and punches out 208 hp. Then as the revs build, the harmonics of the exhaust seem to come in and out of phase and go through various stages of what can only be described as menacing, snarling growls. It’s more than satisfying, and it definitely makes you want to wind it out. Repeatedly.

As an engine, it delivers in a way that to me, harks back a little to engines of old. This one has character that hasn’t been tuned right out. And I don’t mind that at all.  While the fuelling is perhaps not quite modern-day perfect, it adds to the personality of the bike. Power-wise, it’s surprisingly smooth on the bottom before a noticeable bump in ferocity at around seven thousand revs, before a second and final burst around eleven thousand on its way to a peak at thirteen.

And as the 208 hp number would suggest, it properly hauls arse. Just more up top than down low, where it is surprisingly usable even as an everyday proposition.

That ‘intimidating’ word comes back again when I think of the impression I got when I first threw my the leg over it. It’s a firm thing, for sure, with a noticeably sportier riding position than the Dragster. Not a lightweight either, when you’re manhandling it around the shed. It’s 186 kg dry with its 16 L tank put it over 200 kg wet by my rough math.

The suspension feels racebike-like at standstill. Only as you move away and the speed starts to get up to 60 or 70 do you notice the smart 43 mm Ohlins EC electronic forks and EC TTX shock feel like they’ve softened up a little, and then it’s a surprisingly compliant bike on the road. And in a typical sportsbike fashion, it all comes together and makes more and more sense as the speeds rise.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s certainly sporty. My first 100+ km commute into town involved plenty of elbow leaning on the tank. But surprisingly, by the end of day two that wasn’t needed anymore.

What was also surprising was the way those 200+ kilos were held on the move. It just doesn’t feel heavy, and it’s actually surprisingly happy to change direction (the wide ‘bars help there), but what it does feel is super-stable. Which is handy when you have that much grunt on tap.

It all translates to something that could be hustled along surprisingly well if I focused on staying smooth with my throttle inputs. Sport mode is just a bee’s willy on the abrupt side, but I got used to it. Race mode wasn’t for me, not on the road. Maybe on the track, but I think I’d still prefer Sport there too.

With regard to handling, that front-end in particular is really something and completely overshadowed the rear end. It’s massively communicative, and surprisingly compliant. It’s certainly still firm, but it does a decent job of straddling the everyday usability aspect.

It reminded me a little of the Triumph Speed Triple RR in that way, as did the riding position. You’re pitched slightly more forward than your standard super naked, which results in a better steering-feel.

It’s not all good news on the steering front, though. Like the Dragster, it has a woeful steering lock. Actually, I think it’s even worse than the Dragster, which is saying something.

It also shares the not-so-great switch gear. Including that cruise control set-up that needs a button press on the right, then another on the left.

And while we’re on some negatives, maybe the guy who bolts the left mirrors on MVs needs a talking-to. Just like on the Dragster, this one had no intention of staying in a position that was in any way useful.

It does, however, have a nicely adjustable traction-control that when set to one of eight options, allows for easily controllable wheelies once you turn the pesky wheelie-control off. No SCS auto-clutch shenanigans to complicate things there, so that’s another win.

On the gearbox front, the bi-directional quick-shifter works nicely enough, although at times I did find some resistance to drop down gears without the clutch. More so if you were in the mid revs or lower. I do wonder if that’s just a tight new box that needs more kays to free it up. That’s what it felt like to me, and most quick-shifters work better in the higher revs.

I had no issue with the Brembo Stylema stoppers at either end, but to be fair, I probably didnt really put them to the test with repeated hard stops. I was somewhat more reserved than I would have normally been while testing this one, with cold winter temps and damp roads playing their part.

But I also think it indicates that this bike demands a bit of respect and time to really master. The fuelling was a smidge fiery and there is always the consideration of the not-so-insignificant fact that you’re sitting on something that carries a sixty-thousand dollar replacement cost.

That price tag will in some ways take the Brutale out of comparisons to other hyper-nakeds, which might be a good thing for the Brutale from a purely performance perspective. I think both the Superduke 1390 and M 1000 R would have it covered in terms of outright accessible fun and pure ability.

But I think it probably stands alone from a design and rider-involvement perspective for those with the means able to enjoy it. It’s really quite outrageous.

I like the MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR because:

• It’s a work of art that happens to pump out over 200 ponies…
• And sounds exquisite as the pipe harmonics come in
• That front end is surprisingly good too 

I’d like the MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR more if:

• The fuelling still needs a little work
• Switchgear is not great
• Steering lock is absurd 
• 60 big ones. And still no heated grips! 

MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR Review Specs

MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RR Images

Image by RbMotoLens