2024 MV Agusta Brutale 1000 RS Review: Speed Thrills, Price Chills

Over the past few months, I received an introduction to MV Agusta, the "other" Italian motorcycle manufacturer. Mention Italian motorbikes and Ducati typically comes to mind for most people, or Moto Guzzi, or Aprilia. But the name MV Agusta always lingered somewhere in the recesses of my mind, suggesting absolutely stunning designs and rip-roaring performance—even before the first Dragster RR America loaner pulled up to my proverbial doorstep this past Spring.

The Dragster arrived with plenty of pros and a few cons, as expected of a special-edition motorcycle featuring fancy tech to match a somewhat hilarious red-white-and-blue paint job. But my second MV seems to represent more of the heart of the brand's run: the Brutale 1000 RS, supposedly the "more affordable" version of the Brutale 1000 RR hyper-naked.

What exactly makes up the RS package, versus the more hardcore RR? Well, first off and perhaps most importantly, the RS received much higher clip-ons attached to the triple, though still not a true single-piece handlebar. This helps to keep the riding position somewhat more typical of a naked, the category arguably inaugurated by the Ducati Monster.

And yet, the Brutale also runs fairly high footpegs to match a similarly high seat, with a standover height of 33.27 inches, so swapping out for these higher clip-ons never sacrifices too much the aggressive posture, instead merely helping to prevent aching wrists without losing the Brutale's sense of sportiness. A set of 50-millimeter Marzocchi forks and a Sachs rear damper round out the package, rather than the Öhlins used on the much more expensive RS.

Still, the highlight definitely sits cradled in the frame. MV updated the Brutale 1000's 998cc inline-four engine for model year 2023 with a balance shaft—a la Mitsubishi's silky smooth inline-fours—as well as titanium connecting rods and radial titanium valves. The upgrades aim to help that little ball of fury remain reasonably tame for regular riding.

As reasonable as can be expected, anyway, for a screaming mill capable of pumping out 208 horsepower on the way to a redline of 13,000 rpm. And just hopping on the Brutale 1000 RS for a ride around the neighborhood, I noticed immediately that the engine itself seemed to ride directly between my legs, a center of mass all compact and angry, ready to unleash brute force at the slightest twist of throttle.

Hence the Brutale moniker, I suppose. And despite the use of titanium, the balance shaft setup further contributes to a dry weight of 410 pounds—not hefty, but not a superleggera by any means, especially given the upright positioning of rider and machine.

But back to the real conversation. In all seriousness, I thought the Dragster America sounded good. And yet that three-cylinder engine cannot even come close to touching the Brutale's deep bass at low revs, a soundtrack that transitions through a warbling wail up to a haunting, echoic scream easily able to wake up the neighbors for miles. Luckily, the four-banger pumps out enough power low down in the rev range that I could escape my own neighborhood without needing to rev too high—even if the tuning clearly prioritizes the higher end of the tachometer. Cold starts and low rpms can produce a bit of lurching, but the engine warms up quickly and then begs for hard pulls further and further into the insanity.

The power just seems to build and build forever as the cacophony escalates. I found myself gritting my teeth, bracing my feet on the pegs, and tightening up on the grips before getting anywhere near full-throttle rips, which require open roads about the length of an A380 runway to feel anywhere near safe. The adrenaline coursing through my veins on this bike outpaces just about every hypercar or motorcycle I've ever ridden, including the absurd Honda CBR1000RR-R Fireblade or Ducati Streetfighter V4 SP. (Maybe only a Panigale V4R might produce the same tingling, anxious energy—hint hint, if anyone at Ducati happens to be reading.)

From inside my helmet, the Brutale's raucous spirit reverberated between the engine itself and a set of amazing exhaust pipes tucked under the rear tail. The tail itself serves as a highlight of the bike's angular aesthetic, which melds muscular forms with a futuristic hint of hidden force beneath the flesh. Below the pillion seat—something of an odd inclusion—those four exhaust tips stack two to a side. But the two-up seat pad itself rides above aero vents and taillights carved into the marble, as emphasized here by a fashionable gray paint job.

Aero winglets up front complement the look, though made of plastic not carbon, perhaps to save a few bucks in the hopes of keeping the Brutale budget down. The rest of the details surrounding the trellis frame split between painted metal and black plastic, though the actual form itself worked well for me at 6'1" tall with long limbs. The geometry of the seat, pegs, tank, and handlebars kept me comfortable in commuter traffic, but once I escaped the city, hanging off the seat with my haunches scooted back a bit let me hug the crook my knee into the angular tank walls.

The plastic itself actually feels a bit higher in quality than some of the componentry on the Dragster, too, including on the grips. Touchpoints everywhere suggest subtly that the Brutale sits on another level from the lower-spec 800-class Dragster, in fact.

Once out of town, I started fiddling with MV's customizable riding modes. I thumbed through the various engine maps, but found that Race is seriously racy, with a bit too much on-off lurch for canyon carving. Instead, I mainly stayed in Sport, where the engine's modulation eases off a little to allow for more maintenance throttle around blind corners, rather than constantly sticking with hard braking and hard acceleration as I might on a track. Smoothness stayed at the forefront of my mind, after all, with so much power ready to rip out at any second.

And speaking of smoothness, I also found myself happy to ditch the trick SCS clutch of the Dragster America, which comes close to approximating an automatic gearbox thanks to a nifty mechanical expander disc and quickshifter. The Brutale 1000 RS also features an up-down quickshifter, which becomes essential while launching into the stratosphere. I always suspect that four-cylinder engines work better with quickshifters because of the additional reciprocating mass, and perhaps the balance shaft spinning at twice the engine's RPMs helps to further enhance the Brutale's smooth-yet-peppy shifting action. But the bike's clutch also worked so smoothly and confidently that I found myself using my left hand much more than necessary.

I essentially traded the Dragster America in for the Brutale, but in between the two, got stuck riding a whole bunch of Indian Scouts. And let me simply say that getting back on a bike with real, serious brakes brought a true grin to my face the first time I even tugged on the righthand lever a tiny little bit. Dual 320-millimeter discs up front with four-piston Brembo Stylema calipers do most of the work, while I occasionally tooled around with the two-piston rear Brembo caliper to see how much the 220-millimeter disc controlled by my right foot managed, too. But then when I reached the Brutale's full pace, even just a few times, the brakes hauled me back to reality without breaking a sweat (pun fully intended).

Hustling up the tight roads of Malibu, even reaching full throttle on the Brutale requires a scouting run first to make sure the road has been cleared of debris from recent rains and mudslides (not to mention any law enforcement presence). And still, only the longest, straightest straights truly give the Brutale a chance to stretch its legs. Instead, I discovered how happy this bike becomes while leaning over hard, extra weight on the outside peg since the higher handlebars prevent full lowslung countersteering, and my posture rides a bit more upright. The flow, or at least a staccato rhythm, sets in quickly and even pulling through to half or three-quarters throttle above 10,000 rpm seems more than plenty for the kind of fun that public roads afford.

That comfortable posture combines with smooth suspension to produce just enough of a daily rider personality, too. The Marzocchi forks and Sachs damper prevent too much front-to-rear nosedives despite the prodigious power and bitey brakes, not to mention the hornet's nest of an inline-four seemingly mounted right between my knees. And yet, the firmness never requires enough of a sacrifice in compliance to make cracks in the road or speed bumps unruly.

Keeping the engine below about 8,000 rpm helps to reduce lurching, as does selecting Rain mode, or fine-tuning personal preferences via the Custom engine map. The clutch weight for my left hand took a bit more muscle than the Dragster (when I even used that bike's clutch, strictly as an experiment) but never so much as to make my hand sore while battling regular traffic.

Meanwhile, the undeniable aura and presence of the Brutale turned heads perhaps more than any bike I've ridden yet, even despite the flat gray paint. Sure, some of that comes down to the barking exhaust, but multiple friends pointed out the exotic design, too. I enjoyed the attention, even if I personally wouldn't want my own bike to attract eyeballs quite so much, since some eyeballs live in the skulls of police officers eager to ask awkward questions about how fast, exactly, a 208-horsepower bike can go in the space of a city block.

I never felt too nervous giving the Brutale 1000 RS a hard tug on the throttle, thanks in part to the serious suite of tech that MV added alongside the engine upgrades for model year 2023. The 5.5-inch screen allows for fairly easy use of eight-level traction control, including what MV calls "front wheel lift" (the equivalent of wheelie control), the semi-hilarious electronically adjustable Öhlins steering damper (on a bike with otherwise manually adjustable suspension), cornering ABS, an app for smartphone connectivity via Bluetooth, and nav mirroring.

The gauge cluster could definitely be a bit brighter though, since–especially on sunny days with my tinted visor–I struggled to make out some of the finer fonts. And other little details also left me a bit puzzled: Namely, that the screen oddly includes an ambient temperature readout but no coolant temp gauge. I think the grips could be a bit thicker, too, and the rear license plate holder on the rear wheel needs to go. Then, of course, there's whatever MV calls the plastic plate directly in front of the seat, which will have you fearful of sliding forward.

Mostly, at a price point of $30,098 to start, the Brutale 1000 RS seems to deserve electronically adjustable suspension. The RR gets that, yes, but also costs around $10,000 more. And then comes with the lower clip-ons, which make the riding posture much more aggressive than a typical naked, so why not spring for a full-on sport bike?

As addicting as liter-bike power in the modern age gets—quickly, I can admit—the 600-class bikes of today seem to occupy a perfect middle zone of weight and power for me. But this Brutale 1000 RS finds a happy balance between comfort and sporty dynamics, hitting with a serious wallop at a serious price. My few weeks with the Brutale left me very curious about other liter sport bikes from MV, but alas, the company years ago bid arrivederci to the iconic F4 RR. Instead, the F3 now sports a similar three-banger as the Dragster. And if I wanted that powerplant in a sporty package, the stunning style of the Superveloce still sits at the top of the list, even if neither can match the freakish Brutale's outright assault on the senses.