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New BMW M5 versus Mercedes E63 AMG - BBC Top Gear
Or in free text:
New BMW M5 versus Mercedes E63 AMG
Enough talk, let’s get down to the serious business of thrashing...
Words: Ollie Marriage
Fog is rolling in at Dunsfold. Heavily localised and strangely acrid fog. It billows and swirls, with sudden explosive puffs, giving the sense it’s being replenished from within. And from its murky depths comes noise: a bassy, beastly roar. Lights twirl and flash within the fog, then a dark form takes shape. The noise clarifies to a howl and something erupts from the mist, towing a cloud behind it. It’s black, that much is certain, but inside there’s a brief flicker of pure white.
Something about Stig’s body language suggests contentment – and not just because his respiratory system functions better on vaporised rubber than oxygen. Yep, he likes a super saloon, does Stig. But don’t we all? Isn’t there something good and honest about a meaty saloon motivated by an excessively potent motor?
A delicious sense that a (literal) smokescreen of civility is concealing something more primal? In fact, isn’t the super saloon a metaphor for human society as a whole? Let’s not get carried away, this is only a car after all. But we like cars, so to us a new BMW M5 is A Big Deal. Especially now it’s mit turbos. We already know that James likes it very much indeed and that Stig won’t be parted from it until the tyres explode.
As a pair, they’re a brilliant barometer for the M5, representing the two extremes of potential owner and the two areas we expect the M5 to excel in. What’s needed now is something more direct, some help in defining just how successful BMW has been in taking the M5 forward. A rival.
The Merc E63 AMG. Now mit turbos too. Hot Mercs have faced off against brawny Bee-Emms for over a quarter of a century. Audi? Just a bit-part player at this level. Likewise Jaguar, though it’s a shame to admit it. AMG vs M, that’s where it’s at. And just look at the similarities. Both have moved away from natural aspiration and are claiming enormous leaps in torque and fuel economy, just £1,600 separates them on price, they’re divided by only 15lb ft of torque, 0.1secs to 62mph and nothing in top speed.
They only have eyes for each other. Both also use the same language to communicate with the outside world: quad pipes, jutting chins, big wheels – optional 20s on the BMW, but definitely the ones to have as the slender spokes reveal more of the newly painted blue calipers.
Bumpers and spoilers aside, the M5 sports no bodywork changes aside from a shift to aluminium instead of steel for some of the panels. The word to bear in mind here is ‘understated’. M5 owners don’t want to attract stares – a simple sense of muscular purpose is what’s desired. The Merc? Well, that tries a bit harder visually, with extra brightwork and more defined lines.
The E63 also has some truly exceptional touchpoints inside – really deep seats that clench your ribs and Alcanatara inserts on the steering wheel. You sit in it and know that something special is about to happen.
Not so in the BMW, or at least not to the same extent. It’s a more luxurious cabin, replete with plusher, wider seats, a far more modern dash design and an expansive array of new switches around the bespoke gearlever. But you couldn’t climb in with a blindfold on and know you were in an M5. Maybe this is a good thing. The sheer comfort on offer, the quality, the insulation, make the M5 a superior everyday proposition – the cabin is a lovely, relaxing place to spend time when you’re merely burbling about the place.
A quick word on family matters. These are genuine four-seaters in the way that even a Porsche Panamera isn’t – taller roofline, less claustrophobic in the back. You can have the E as a wagon, too. But not the BMW. In fact, never the BMW, if the M people are to be believed. Shame. Now, let’s get to the central issue here. BMW has long held that the engine is at the heart of every M car.
The cylinder count may have varied (this is only the second V8 M5), but the M5’s dedication to natural aspiration hasn’t wavered. Until now. It’s hardly surprising – the need to up power and lower emissions has necessitated the move to forced induction, but (1M aside) this is an area in which M division is short of practice compared to AMG, which has dabbled with turbo, super and natural at various points in its recent history.
Like any other sports car engine, it’s not enough for a super saloon to just hurl you down the road providing simple thrust and acceleration. As we’re finding out these days, electricity can do that. What internal combustion offers is character, but that’s tricky to nail when turbos are involved. Their spool-up times delay throttle response, mid-range grunt replaces top-end crescendo, and the curious path they force air to take around the engine means the noise is muted.
Don’t ask me how, but Merc has overcome every single one of these concerns. Turn the key and the 5.5-litre erupts into life, rocking the car, and from that moment on you’re swept away by its sheer charisma, barrel-chested delivery and a noise that’s pure, roaring, gargling baritone. It’s utterly, wonderfully, exuberantly rampant, an engine that plays to the gallery and has a sense of theatre that’s absent from the M5. To drive it is to love it.
So what of the BMW’s 4.4-litre bi-turbo? Is it a genuine M engine in the way that the 5.5-litre so perfectly captures what AMG is all about? Yes, it is. M doesn’t focus on the fripperies to the extent that AMG does, so it’s less shouty at start-up, but once up and running (and in both of these cars you have max torque from less than 2,000rpm) the BMW feels more focused – like it’s aiming at a point further down the road.
There’s a distant fizz of turbo noise, a bass-laden V8 rumble and then this immense surge of power. It’s totally remorseless, gaining strength above 4,500rpm and maintaining it for another 3,000rpm beyond that. It’s major league stuff – I suspect a 458 Italia would have trouble getting its nose back in front if either of these got a sniff of a lead. They make it so easy, especially the BMW. Its DSG gearbox is sublime.
There’s a well-founded rumour that BMW will again do a manual M5 for America. I wouldn’t have it – this just feels so well suited to the car now. The Merc’s auto has an equal number of ratios (seven), but isn’t nearly so fluid at shuffling between them. OK, Sport Plus mode does an uncanny job of being in the right gear at the right time, but manual is a dead loss due to the delay between gear selection and presentation. It’s these hiccups in the Merc that lend it a measure of both personality and frustration.
It’s a slightly clumsier car than the BMW, the front and rear ends aren’t so together, the ride is undoubtedly firmer, as are the seats, and there’s more than a little road noise. It doesn’t have the M5’s duality, but equally the M5 doesn’t possess the rabidity of a charging E63. You get the sense that AMG got it to a point, thought, ‘Well, that’s fun’, and left it alone.
Not so the M5. It’s the product of endless honing and hooning. Those buttons around the gearlever allow you to individually change the steering, suspension, engine response, traction and gearbox – three levels for each one. Often slightly redundant, here they fundamentally change the car’s behaviour from something that’ll cruise with the ease and refinement of
a 530d into something that’ll stalk supercars.
But it’s rarely intimidating to drive – there’s a sense of balance and flow to the M5 that allows the chassis to be exploited without being overly concerned about what might happen if you overdo it. Do us a favour and don’t fully disable the traction, though. The downside of this approachability is that the BMW never truly bares its fangs, giving it more in common with the only other V8 M5 – the E39, than its direct predecessor, the V10 E60. This could be down to the driver though, I think, as I watch Stig sling the M5 sideways and ride a slide so long and smoky that he needs to upshift to fourth partway through. Wow. If the M5 is good enough for Stig...
Ken
Or in free text:
New BMW M5 versus Mercedes E63 AMG
Enough talk, let’s get down to the serious business of thrashing...
Words: Ollie Marriage
Fog is rolling in at Dunsfold. Heavily localised and strangely acrid fog. It billows and swirls, with sudden explosive puffs, giving the sense it’s being replenished from within. And from its murky depths comes noise: a bassy, beastly roar. Lights twirl and flash within the fog, then a dark form takes shape. The noise clarifies to a howl and something erupts from the mist, towing a cloud behind it. It’s black, that much is certain, but inside there’s a brief flicker of pure white.
Something about Stig’s body language suggests contentment – and not just because his respiratory system functions better on vaporised rubber than oxygen. Yep, he likes a super saloon, does Stig. But don’t we all? Isn’t there something good and honest about a meaty saloon motivated by an excessively potent motor?
A delicious sense that a (literal) smokescreen of civility is concealing something more primal? In fact, isn’t the super saloon a metaphor for human society as a whole? Let’s not get carried away, this is only a car after all. But we like cars, so to us a new BMW M5 is A Big Deal. Especially now it’s mit turbos. We already know that James likes it very much indeed and that Stig won’t be parted from it until the tyres explode.
As a pair, they’re a brilliant barometer for the M5, representing the two extremes of potential owner and the two areas we expect the M5 to excel in. What’s needed now is something more direct, some help in defining just how successful BMW has been in taking the M5 forward. A rival.
The Merc E63 AMG. Now mit turbos too. Hot Mercs have faced off against brawny Bee-Emms for over a quarter of a century. Audi? Just a bit-part player at this level. Likewise Jaguar, though it’s a shame to admit it. AMG vs M, that’s where it’s at. And just look at the similarities. Both have moved away from natural aspiration and are claiming enormous leaps in torque and fuel economy, just £1,600 separates them on price, they’re divided by only 15lb ft of torque, 0.1secs to 62mph and nothing in top speed.
They only have eyes for each other. Both also use the same language to communicate with the outside world: quad pipes, jutting chins, big wheels – optional 20s on the BMW, but definitely the ones to have as the slender spokes reveal more of the newly painted blue calipers.
Bumpers and spoilers aside, the M5 sports no bodywork changes aside from a shift to aluminium instead of steel for some of the panels. The word to bear in mind here is ‘understated’. M5 owners don’t want to attract stares – a simple sense of muscular purpose is what’s desired. The Merc? Well, that tries a bit harder visually, with extra brightwork and more defined lines.
The E63 also has some truly exceptional touchpoints inside – really deep seats that clench your ribs and Alcanatara inserts on the steering wheel. You sit in it and know that something special is about to happen.
Not so in the BMW, or at least not to the same extent. It’s a more luxurious cabin, replete with plusher, wider seats, a far more modern dash design and an expansive array of new switches around the bespoke gearlever. But you couldn’t climb in with a blindfold on and know you were in an M5. Maybe this is a good thing. The sheer comfort on offer, the quality, the insulation, make the M5 a superior everyday proposition – the cabin is a lovely, relaxing place to spend time when you’re merely burbling about the place.
A quick word on family matters. These are genuine four-seaters in the way that even a Porsche Panamera isn’t – taller roofline, less claustrophobic in the back. You can have the E as a wagon, too. But not the BMW. In fact, never the BMW, if the M people are to be believed. Shame. Now, let’s get to the central issue here. BMW has long held that the engine is at the heart of every M car.
The cylinder count may have varied (this is only the second V8 M5), but the M5’s dedication to natural aspiration hasn’t wavered. Until now. It’s hardly surprising – the need to up power and lower emissions has necessitated the move to forced induction, but (1M aside) this is an area in which M division is short of practice compared to AMG, which has dabbled with turbo, super and natural at various points in its recent history.
Like any other sports car engine, it’s not enough for a super saloon to just hurl you down the road providing simple thrust and acceleration. As we’re finding out these days, electricity can do that. What internal combustion offers is character, but that’s tricky to nail when turbos are involved. Their spool-up times delay throttle response, mid-range grunt replaces top-end crescendo, and the curious path they force air to take around the engine means the noise is muted.
Don’t ask me how, but Merc has overcome every single one of these concerns. Turn the key and the 5.5-litre erupts into life, rocking the car, and from that moment on you’re swept away by its sheer charisma, barrel-chested delivery and a noise that’s pure, roaring, gargling baritone. It’s utterly, wonderfully, exuberantly rampant, an engine that plays to the gallery and has a sense of theatre that’s absent from the M5. To drive it is to love it.
So what of the BMW’s 4.4-litre bi-turbo? Is it a genuine M engine in the way that the 5.5-litre so perfectly captures what AMG is all about? Yes, it is. M doesn’t focus on the fripperies to the extent that AMG does, so it’s less shouty at start-up, but once up and running (and in both of these cars you have max torque from less than 2,000rpm) the BMW feels more focused – like it’s aiming at a point further down the road.
There’s a distant fizz of turbo noise, a bass-laden V8 rumble and then this immense surge of power. It’s totally remorseless, gaining strength above 4,500rpm and maintaining it for another 3,000rpm beyond that. It’s major league stuff – I suspect a 458 Italia would have trouble getting its nose back in front if either of these got a sniff of a lead. They make it so easy, especially the BMW. Its DSG gearbox is sublime.
There’s a well-founded rumour that BMW will again do a manual M5 for America. I wouldn’t have it – this just feels so well suited to the car now. The Merc’s auto has an equal number of ratios (seven), but isn’t nearly so fluid at shuffling between them. OK, Sport Plus mode does an uncanny job of being in the right gear at the right time, but manual is a dead loss due to the delay between gear selection and presentation. It’s these hiccups in the Merc that lend it a measure of both personality and frustration.
It’s a slightly clumsier car than the BMW, the front and rear ends aren’t so together, the ride is undoubtedly firmer, as are the seats, and there’s more than a little road noise. It doesn’t have the M5’s duality, but equally the M5 doesn’t possess the rabidity of a charging E63. You get the sense that AMG got it to a point, thought, ‘Well, that’s fun’, and left it alone.
Not so the M5. It’s the product of endless honing and hooning. Those buttons around the gearlever allow you to individually change the steering, suspension, engine response, traction and gearbox – three levels for each one. Often slightly redundant, here they fundamentally change the car’s behaviour from something that’ll cruise with the ease and refinement of
a 530d into something that’ll stalk supercars.
But it’s rarely intimidating to drive – there’s a sense of balance and flow to the M5 that allows the chassis to be exploited without being overly concerned about what might happen if you overdo it. Do us a favour and don’t fully disable the traction, though. The downside of this approachability is that the BMW never truly bares its fangs, giving it more in common with the only other V8 M5 – the E39, than its direct predecessor, the V10 E60. This could be down to the driver though, I think, as I watch Stig sling the M5 sideways and ride a slide so long and smoky that he needs to upshift to fourth partway through. Wow. If the M5 is good enough for Stig...
Ken
