The Audi RS7’s PCOTY story is a tale of two halves.
On the road loops, no car was in more demand, the combination of that beautifully opulent interior (with one of the best stereos you’ll ever hear), cushioning ride and thumping twin-turbo V8 making it one of the most pleasant ways to travel long distances without being 35,000ft up.
You’ll never tire of the power, either. The RS7 is ludicrously, dizzyingly fast. It might have the smallest twin-turbo V8 of any of the German big three (BMW uses 4.4 litres, Mercedes 5.5), but those clever boffins at Ingolstadt have done a wicked job of producing more from less.
Even with 412kW/700Nm, it should take longer than 3.90sec to shift 1995kg from 0-100km/h. And that’s without launch control, just planting the throttle from rest. It never stops, either, not until the speedo reads well over 200 anyway.
On a twisty road it manages to disguise its weight pretty well, and with the sports diff in Dynamic mode it’ll power oversteer rather than understeer, but uncommunicative steering and the sheer size of the thing dulls your enthusiasm in the tight stuff.
On a windy road it feels happiest at about seven-tenths, though through faster, more flowing corners its grip and punch means it reigns supreme. It’s not exactly fun, but it is impressive, and that’s probably what buyers are after.
Unfortunately for Audi, there’s also a track component to PCOTY, and it’s here the RS7’s case begins to unravel. Despite wearing $20,940 worth of carbon-ceramic brakes, the middle pedal was going long after only a few laps and the front tyres gave up soon after, sizeable chunks having been torn out of the outer shoulders. Blame two tonnes, 30-degree heat and Winton’s tough layout.
Such problems are difficult to understand, as surely the RS7 did more than its fair share of laps around the Nurburgring during development – if it can handle 22km of the Green Hell, why not 10 laps of Winton?
To be fair, there’s every chance our test car was off-colour, and to its credit Audi pointed no fingers, trucking the car back to Sydney for a full investigation. We’ll report the findings and plan to hit the track in an RS Audi again soon.
Regardless of its on-track difficulties, it quickly became clear the RS7 wasn’t going to trouble the pointy end. As mentioned in the opening paragraph, it excels in a very specific set of circumstances, but while being a brilliant high-speed cruiser probably fulfils the desires of the target customer, it’s not enough to become PCOTY champion.
Arai GP-6 RC carbon helmet
Putting a lid on it WHAT’S better than owning some Formula One star’s helmet? How about having your own actual F1 helmet?
The Arai GP-6 RC ($4400) is the choice of more than half the drivers on the F1 grid, and bristles with FIA-spec safety features including full Nomex lining, Kevlar chin strap, 3mm-thick visor, emergency release cheek pads and HANS anchor points.
It comes in clear-coated natural carbonfibre – it takes an Arai employee a full day just to lay up each GP-6 shell – which you will never, ever tire of looking at.
Does it get any better than that? Well, you could have it custom painted. But that probably pushes it into the whole is-that-what-Christmas-is-really-about thing.
However, if you’ve a mind to wear your F1-compliant GP-6 RC on your Vespa Primavera 50, such is the bizarreness of Australian Standards that, well, you can’t. For that, there’s the Corsair-V Doohan replica motorcycle helmet, priced from $1099.
Compared with the GP-6, the motorcycle-oriented Corsair-V has a larger eye port, bigger top ventilation port, Arai’s innovative MotoGP-developed AirWing adjustable spoiler to reduce buffeting, and much less carbonfibre.
Anki drive AI racing game
The slot cars of the future, today IT’S not quite slot-car racing, though the cars are small and fast and race against each other. And it’s not quite radio-controlled racing, because these cars can actually think for themselves. And, although it has features such as winnable performance upgrades, it’s not a virtual racing game because it’s, uh, real.
Anki Drive is a toy/game/thing that brings artificial intelligence (AI) technology to your livingroom floor or man-cave snooker table. Its racetrack is an apparently simple 2.6×1.0-metre roll-out plastic mat, but is in fact printed with “positional code” that the cars can read. Recent track designs feature bottleneck and crossroads sections, where the cars actually figure out how to avoid collisions.
The Anki cars were designed by Harald Belker, who’s designed vehicles for Batman, Minority Report and Tron. And the seven Anki models are almost as sci-fi, being legit AI robots that find their way around the track and each other by communicating with the game host’s iPhone or Android app. The cars can also be raced manually, via smartphones, and each car has different strengths and weaknesses.
The game isn’t just a race, but a battle: players shoot at their rivals and win races to earn upgrades in car performance and digital weapons. A bit like Death Race 2000, really. Or virtually. Or somewhere between.
Parajet SkyRunner
Because everyone wants a flying car WE KNOW this has been said every year since about 1946, but here goes: This might finally be the Christmas when the person who has everything can have their flying car.
The signs are unusually hopeful for British firm Parajet International’s SkyRunner dune buggy, since it bears no resemblance to perennially flightless favourites such as the multi-engined Moller SkyCar and any number of machines that look like the offspring of a Cessna humping a hatchback.
The SkyRunner is a 420kg single-seat dune buggy capable of 185km/h on land, thanks to its rear-mounted 1.0-litre Ford EcoBoost turbo four. When it’s not driving the rear wheels, the donk hooks up to a 1.6m three-blade propeller that, in concert with a giant paraglider wing, enables the SkyRunner to buzz through the air at up to 47 knots (about 88km/h) for up to three hours. It can launch or land within 200 metres and, in the event of the engine stopping, will just glide back to the ground.
A prototype has already flown successfully from the UK to central Africa. What also makes SkyRunner credible is Parajet’s existing products, namely a range of backpack “paramotors” that enable paragliders to launch on foot from ground-level.
At this year’s Farnborough Air Show, Parajet was taking SkyRunner orders, at $147,000. Uhh, you first.
Parajet International SkyRunner $147,000
Viper personal hovercraft
Whatever floats your boat IN JULY 1959, a bizarre-looking boat hummed across the English Channel. On reaching the Dover shore, this craft drove straight onto the land, then turned around, went back over the water, then back onto land again. Sir Christopher Cockerell’s SR.N1 “hovercraft” was clearly a major breakthrough in transportation, surely as significant as the motor car, ship or aeroplane.
Half a century later, you’d reckon hovercraft would be everywhere. In fact, the hovercraft’s biggest success would belong to a Swedish inventor who happened to be in the crowd that day: Karl Dahlman, who in 1965 launched his motordrivna rotorgräsklippare. Minus the Muppet-chef accent, that’s the Flymo lawn mower.
Passenger hovercraft ownership is a taste acquired by very few, and for performance and family fun you can’t go past the Viper 5XR, designed and built in New South Wales.
The 5XR’s hull is made from fibreglass, Kevlar and carbonfibre, with urethane-coated nylon skirting. While it occupies the same 4.6-metre parking space as your Ferrari F12, this seats five (in tandem) and weighs just 250kg.
A 939cc 75kW Hirth two-stroke triple propels it to a top speed of 80km/h, with handling and braking precision that matches the Ferrari’s, at least on polished ice. On water – no contest!
Viper makes other four- and five-seat models, also available in kit form.
Viper 5XR hovercraft from $52,500
Gulf racing travelbag
Bagging a legend HERE’S something you didn’t know. The first-ever trademark issued by the European Trademark Registry for colours – no logo, no trade name, just a combination of colours – was granted to a certain pairing of powder-blue and orange.
Gulf Oil entered motor sport in 1967 by backing John Wyer’s Mirage sports prototypes. Gulf’s own corporate colours were dark blue and orange, but that year they acquired the Wilshire Oil Company, which introduced the lighter blue hue.
Gulf-liveried Ford GT40s won Le Mans in 1968 and ’69, but it was probably Steve McQueen’s movie Le Mans, filmed around the 1970 race, that put pigment-maker Llewellyn Ryland’s 3707 Zenith Blue and 3957 Tangerine on the world map.
The Gulf logo and colours are instantly recognisable, so check out the official Gulf-branded gear at Oz importer, Spirit Of Racing. Personal faves are the canvas and leather bags. The decent-sized Gulf Travelbag (55x36x25cm) looks cool in navy canvas with Gulf’s dual stripes, with base and handles in dark tan antique leather. Then start buying some McQueen-cool Gulf jackets, shirts and caps to stuff inside it.
Ferrari Cavallino T350
Ferrari styling for your ears IT WOULD be nice to have a Ferrari V8 or V12 in your ears all the time. Next best thing is to have a Ferrari on your ears, in the form of these Ferrari Cavallino T350 active noise-cancelling headphones by Logic3, direct from the Ferrari Store.
The T350s are “inspired” by the design of Ferrari interiors, and it’s easy to see in the titanium finish metal arm and sewn leather surfaces, not to mention the chrome prancing horse in the centre of each earpiece.
The 40mm drivers are enclosed within soft-sealing ear pads, and ANC (active noise cancelling) technology does its best to cut out environmental clutter.
The headphones look a million bucks right there in the box, packaged with tangle-free cables, each with gold-plated jacks, including an aeroplane adaptor and remote cables to suit Apple and generic MP3 devices. These babies can be plugged into your home sound system, television, Apple device, Android phone or home computer.
The ANC mode, powered by onboard AAA batteries behind the left-side cover, is perfect for listening to your favourite tunes on an aeroplane or in other high-noise environments. Of course, they’re not to be worn in an actual Ferrari. That’s a noise that never needs cancelling.
Ferrari Cavallino T350 ANC headphones $375
Why is the Renault Sport Clio RS200 even in PCOTY? Glad you asked.
Because it’s as much a performance leader in its segment as any PCOTY rival. And, on merit of intended purpose – affordable fun factor – it was capable of taking on pricier and more powerful rivals.
In fact, we thought it might’ve climbed higher than ninth. A giant-killer, GTS Maloo notwithstanding, it proved not to be.
The result hinged little on the stopwatch. We fully expected that the most affordable ($37,290) and least potent (147kW and 240Nm) device would fill the bottom of the timesheets.
That it was the only car doing fours (80-120), sevens (0-100) and 15s (0-400) didn’t weigh much in judges’ minds. That it was six seconds slower (1:47.5) around Winton than any other competitor proves that, well, speed costs money. It also suggests the RS200’s much lauded chassis wasn’t paying much dividend in the corners.
The devil’s advocate – and the RCZ-R – suggests that more grip and power offers the 1.6-litre front-drive format an extra six seconds of lap time. And, with the heavier Golf R, that advantage plus all-wheel drive yields similar gains.
In short, could the Clio format push the performance envelope harder in a hotter form? Evidence suggests yes. Imagine Renault Sport creating its answer to Audi’s S1!
However, the RS200 is what it is. That said, it fronts up with twin clutches, launch control and all sorts of addenda in the quest for speed to push the RS200 further away from the traditional compact hot-hatch conception. It wants for ground-breaking, benchmarking pace. And the initial tarnish in judges’ eyes is that it doesn’t feel otherworldly quick for what it is.
Then there’s fun factor. Renault Sport has built itself an incredible pedigree for entertaining (and fast) front-drive hatchbacks. And therefore the biggest criticism aimed at the little French rocket is that it’s marketed so ferociously as a tool for driver enjoyment and yet, against many PCOTY rivals of lower track-savvy pretensions, it wasn’t that much of a hoot to throw around the track or a twisty country road.
Sure, unglue its tyres mid-corner and it’ll shimmy like a Dancing with the Stars contestant, but it’s not as engaging as the Golf R or as purposeful as the RCZ-R. Let alone the rest of the field.
In fact, driven hard, you’re compelled to keep the Clio as tidy as possible to milk some speed from the thing on track. On road, its modest footprint presented meagre body control and athleticism when tasked with pointing and shooting.
That said, its fantastic playfulness remains the handling package’s strongest suit everywhere. The RS200 is fun and fast(-ish). But not nearly enough to raise it beyond ninth place.
Vesaro Driving Simulator
Pure (virtual) driving pleasure SO, YOU’VE got your geeky Google glasses, bendy new iPhone 6, the 105-inch curved television that turned your kids into radiation shadows and a copy of the latest Wheels in your mitts. You’re the dude with everything, right?
Not so fast. Christmas is a time of reflection and a time of giving, so you might reflect that somebody ought to be giving you, for starters, this Vesaro driving simulator (from $1850, frame only). Looking like an even more minimalist Aerial Atom roadster, the British-made Vesaro games sim is a modular system that kicks off with a powder-coated or polished stainless-steel chassis and genuine Cobra racing seat, then options upwards from there.
You can add fully height- and reach-adjustable seat and pedals, 500-watt surround sound, a single 60-inch or panoramic triple 55-inch monitors, and full rig movement using D-Box motion physics, with up to 150mm of vertical movement at each corner.
If you’ve already sorted a PC or games console, the Stage 3 (of 10) unit, priced at $6825, is about where you’ll grid up. But, hey, it’s Christmas. A Rosberg-rattling Special Edition Line model will run you – or those who claim they “love” you – to around $85,400, but they’ll feel the warm embrace of giving.
Vesaro driving simulator from $1850
Ollie
These are the droids you’re looking for EVEN if you’re somebody who keeps a Lamborghini LM002 for its novelty value, you still don’t have a smartphone-operated, off-road soup-tin robot. This little R2Dturd is called Ollie ($149.95), and it comes from the folks behind Sphero, the robotic plastic ball.
While both sound as dynamic and interactive as “robotic house brick”, be assured that the Sphero has already built a cult following through its cleverly expanding repertoire of tricks, controlled by more than 30 available apps.
Same goes for Ollie, which in physical terms is a plastic tube ringed with a pair of wheels, to which slick or off-road tyres can be attached.
Each wheel is independently driven, so Ollie can steer and pull 360s on the spot. In motion, it looks like some sort of crazed zombie remnant of a disembodied Mars rover.
It’s controlled within a 30m range from a smartphone (iPhone or Android); just download the app and start hooning around at up to 20km/h, doing turns, jumps, skate-ramp stunts and racing other Ollies.
With knobby tyres on, it’ll drive over grass, dirt and sand, and you get up to 60 minutes of play time before recharging.
Want. One. Now.
Hublot MP-05 LaFerrari
The Ferrari that knows what time it is FERRARI’S associations with watchmakers in the past have been patchy and short-lived, but new incumbent Hublot is taking the relationship very seriously.
The Hublot MP-05 LaFerrari says it all, starting with a $360K price to rival a low-km 458 Italia, but described better in a molto-complicated, tourbillon-regulated movement powered by a ‘crankshaft’ of 11 coupled mainspring barrels. It’s a new way to drive a watch and comprises some 637 individual parts housed within a black titanium case whose shape evokes its supercar namesake.
The power reserve of 50 days is a record for a tourbillon-equipped timepiece, and it has to be wound with a supplied mini-drill device, putting one in mind of an F1 rattle-gun. It displays the time via black aluminium cylinders to the right of the central crankshaft, while those to the left show the power reserve. It comes in a carbonfibre box leather-lined by Schedoni, Ferrari’s seat-maker.
Hublot built just 50 examples in 2013 – making it just over 10 times’ more exclusive than the La Ferrari car – but it has since displayed yellow-gold and bare titanium versions. So there’s still a chance to get one.
Hublot MP-05 LaFerrari $360,000
Stealth electric off-road bicycle
Putting the ‘push’ into pushbike MOTORCYCLES are great, but not everybody has the courage, co-ordination or their mum’s permission to ride one. And so there are bicycles. The line between them is blurred like never before by the Stealth electric bike, which has cranks and pedals like a treadlie, but can blaze through forest trails at more than 80km/h. It’s like a downhill mountain bike that also goes uphill. Imagine!
The Stealth bikes – there are three, namely the 3.7kW Fighter ($7900), 5.2kW Bomber ($9900) and pedal-less 5.2kW Hurricane ($9700) – are designed and built right here in Oz, using a fabricated chrome-moly frame that’s guaranteed for life.
Suspension is by a bunch of well-known MTB brands, with the base Fighter boasting 180/200mm front and rear travel and the Bomber 180/250mm. All are hauled up by Magura hydraulic disc brakes, with a variety of upgrades available.
The Fighter pedals through a two-speed crankset and delivers its 3.7kW output through a rear hub motor; the whole bike weighs just 34kg. The 5.2kW Bomber weighs a tad over 50kg, but has a nine-speed crankset and a lot more power.
A 25km/h speed-governed setting keeps things legit for road use, a rider-activated regenerative braking system complements the up-to-80km range, and recharging takes two hours. And, unlike a dead motorbike, you can still ride it home.
Stealth electric bikes $8000-$10,000
Tonino Lamborghini Antares phone
Is that a Lamborghini in your pocket? JUST as the Porsche family had Ferdinand Alexander, aka ‘Butzi’, as a scion in freelance product design, so Lamborghini has Antonio, aka ‘Tonino’. The Italian businessman, one of two children born to supercar maker Ferruccio, parlayed his father’s name, logo and probably not a little of his money into the 1981 founding of a design company to produce branded furniture and personal accessories.
Tonino treads carefully around the car-company connection these days, lest he be dive-bombed by lawyers from Ingolstadt, but there are plenty of identifiable cues in his latest toy, the Antares mobile phone ($4900). The Android phone has a stainless-steel body with leather inserts and a screen in tough gorilla glass. It even ships in a plastic case that resembles an alloy cam cover. With its angles, intakes and grilles, this is a phone that does look like it’s doing 349km/h on a coffee table.
Tonino Lamborghini has added a bunch of its own icons and apps to distinguish the Antares from other Android 4.2 phones.
Geek sites haven’t been quite so gushing about its performance, praising the Yamaha amplifier and speakers and Sony cameras, but lukewarm on the Fiat-spec screen, 1.5GHz quad-core processor and 170g kerb weight.
Tonino Lamborghini Antares phone $4900
Dremel rotary tool set
The sharpest tool in the shed IN 1934, nerdy genius Albert Dremel of Wisconsin, USA invented a little electric-motored doohickey he named the Moto-Tool. Like a hand-held dentist’s drill, the Dremel’s 5000-35,000rpm speed range (it varies depending on model) and mini-chuck open a Stargate-style portal to a universe of attachments.
There are grinding wheels, cutters, polishers, mandrels, wire brushes, drill bits, blade sharpeners and routers, and right-angles and flex-shafts so you can perform any of these tasks in the tightest spaces.
There’s an owners club and chat room where people discuss all aspects of Dremelling, for this brilliant and indispensable device has become verb.
The Dremel rotary tool range now comprises four models, two of them (8100 and 8200) cordless, which top out at 30,000rpm. Speed variability in the top corded model (the 4000) ranges from 5000-35,000rpm. And for extra-fiddly jobs, there’s the Dremel Stylus, a pistol-sized cordless jobbie.
They’re cheap enough that you can go the rat, with a top-spec 4000-series and starter set of 50 attachments available for about $175, with a similar pack for the top cordless 8200 about $145. Online retailers often bundle them with bonus accessory packs, too, so you’ll have grinding discs and polishing buffs left over to hand down to the grandkids.
Dremel 4000 rotary tool kit $175
In life there are two times it’s okay to come last: one, PCOTY. Two, get your mind out of the gutter.
HSV is owed applause for having the guts to enter its GTS Maloo in Australia’s oldest, most respected, least BS performance car competition – a car based on an agricultural load-lugger and with a dirty big donk under the bonnet.
Given how utterly cracking the GTS sedan is, in theory the GTS Maloo made sense given it has the sedan’s engine, rear-end, brakes, rubber – everything, minus its Magnetic Ride Control.
Unfortunately, however, the GTS treatment doesn’t translate to ute quite as well as it does sedan.
In some ways the most impressive part of the GTS sedan isn’t its power but rather the advances in grip and suspension performance over its HSV siblings. So for the GTS ute to miss the tricky dampers surely contributes to steering that feels unable to wed 430kW of V8 with 1875kg and three metres of wheelbase. It just isn’t sharp enough.
The exhaust, too, sounds a little watered down and sawdusty in the company of the also blown V8 I’m-gonna-bite-your-face-off F-Type.
Woolly steering and apologetic exhaust note aside, the GTS Maloo is a monster in both oomph and stomp.
Six-pot calipers bite 390mm front discs and 372mm rears. The GTS Maloo might weigh so much it should be wearing a cravat, but bend the brake pedal at 100km/h and in just 34.44m you’re kaput. Or third outright for braking, beating STI, M4 and Golf R. A ute!
On the track, while the Audi RS7 is off melting its megadollar carbon-ceramics, the Maloo GTS’s brakes neither complain nor, importantly, fade. All the while, the pedal feel perfectly blends firmness with bite. Whoever made these brakes deserves a trophy.
It’s just as feral in a straight line as its sedan sibling, too: 4.46sec to 100 and a 12.54 quarter. So memo BMW: your newfandangled M4 has been blasted into the weeds by a bright green thing from eastern Melbourne.
That said, some judges dared suggest the GTS Maloo didn’t feel its full 430kW. The 405kW F-Type did numbers and felt far punchier than its 200-kilo weight advantage would suggest.
And on track, you quickly tire of chasing tenths in the GTS Maloo. The QE2 wheelbase, tight diff and 740Nm at 3850rpm mean it’s far more fun, ESP off, winding opposite lock in and out.
The GTS Maloo will cackle along with you, and that’s where its real talent for entertainment lies. As for coming last, it beat every car that’s not here.
Russell Morris and I go back 45 years, which means I feel like I’ve known him my whole life, yet I only met him a few months ago.
It all started in 1969, a magical, musical time for a pop-obsessed 12-year-old. I could reel off the Top 40 faster than my times tables and knew every word of every Beatles song, even the “yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye” ones, to my parents’ delight.
Music was my world, and being a pop star was more than just an ambition, it was motivation and passion.
One day a new clip on Uptight (a Countdown precursor on glorious black-and-white TV) blew my pre-teen mind. It was The Real Thing (Parts I & II) by Russell Morris, a blond 20-year-old with a Prince Valiant haircut and a voice so sweet it made songbirds jealous and women swoon. It was an epic track, Australia’s Stairway to Heaven, and would cement Morris’s place in music history.
Some 15 years later I almost met Russell. I was living the dream on the pub circuit in Melbourne, fronting my own rock band, and we got to play support for his early-1980s outfit, The Rubes.
I remember thinking how amazing his voice was live, and how mighty The Real Thing sounded though a 3000-watt PA.
Another 30 years on, I find myself, finally, chatting with Russell Morris, sadly not back stage at a huge festival we’re both playing, but in a new Ford Transit van. I’m on the roadie again, taking Russell and his band to the Deniliquin Blues & Roots Festival.
A mutual friend, Russell’s wunderkind bass player and record producer, Mitch Cairns, had teed me up to be an honorary ‘roadie’ for the trip, so I’d snaffled a new Ford Transit Custom one-tonne van – the 2013 International Van of The Year in Europe, no less – to haul the band’s gear north.
And to show Russell what a mover and shaker I’d become, and what a fan I still am, I’d had Ford Signwave sticker the Transit with the cover art for his new record,
But as I head for Mitch’s studio to pick up the band, my biggest concerns are how much gear they’re taking and how my back will hold up.
It’s more than 25 years since I lumped amps and PAs around the traps, so I’m less than thrilled to see a small mountain of speaker boxes, drums and guitars piled up outside the studio and Mitch grinning like a Japanese game-show host.
When Russell, guitarist Peter Robinson, and drummer John Creech arrive we learn that Van Diemen’s Land has made its debut at number four on the ARIA charts, knocking off a bunch of modern pop princesses. It’s a nice way to start the trip and the band’s high spirits are further lightened by the practical joke they’ve played on me.
Turns out they hardly take any gear to these big outdoor festivals as the promoters provide the ‘backline’ to speed up changeovers between acts. All we need are guitars, drums and a couple of beloved amps. My back weeps a silent thank you.
So the Transit, with its massive cargo area of 5.95m3, will be virtually empty. The heaviest thing on board is probably me.
Surprisingly, the big van turns out to be as easy to drive as a Focus, despite a non-substantial 93kW/350Nm of diesel power from its 2.2-litre four-cylinder. She’s got good brakes, nifty handling and a pretty comfy cab for a commercial, complete with iPod integration.
But it does have one major drawback for a tight-knit rock ’n’ roll; there’s no second row of seats, and you can’t option one. So, we’ll ride two-up in the Trannie and three-up in a Ford Kuga Titanium.
Russell, 65, joins me in the van and I begin what must seem like an incessant barrage of questions – about 45 years’ worth.
He grew up on the mean streets of Richmond in inner Melbourne, and I’m surprised to learn that the boy who cooed Sweet Sweet Love also liked to kick people’s heads in.
“I was a real hothead,” he grins. “I did karate for years and I wasn’t scared of anybody. I was very bad tempered and still can be. But I’m too old now to do anything about it.”
Russell had his first taste of stardom aged 18, in the band Somebody’s Image, after its single Hush became a hit. They’d been an R’n’B band, but with a hot record and a ‘pretty’ singer, they were promoted by svengali Ian ‘Molly’ Meldrum to the teen market, and Russell became A Pop Star. Soon after, The Real Thing took the now-solo singer to the stars.
“It was a chaotic time,” he recalls. “Fame is really good but it’s also a nightmare. I lived with my mother and stepfather and I’d come home and there would be 13 girls out the front and inside there would be 13 more that my mum had made cups of tea for!
“I never got any peace. To get away I would go scramble riding in the hills with friends.”
I do my best to sound sympathetic for his awful, being-stalked-by-26-women youth, but I’m pretty sure I fail.
Touring in those days was also hard work for a solo artist – Russell often doing shows with ‘pickup’ bands of varying abilities – and the screaming fans who drowned out his shows, just like The Beatles.
“I played Brisbane Festival Hall once and the kids kept pulling my microphone leads out and I ended up singing into a mic that wasn’t working. But because the crowd was going nuts they couldn’t tell and I thought, ‘This is ridiculous, I don’t want to be like Davey Jones from The Monkees. I’m going to write all my own songs from now on’.”
From 1973 to ’78 he lived and recorded in the US and Britain but failed to get any traction, and after being ripped off by American managers he returned home to re-establish his pop career. He soon realised he was over that scene.
“I just wanted to do blues,” he says. “Not the most commercial way to earn a crust when hard-rocking bands like The Angels and Cold Chisel ruled and beer barn rock was reaching its zenith.”
Still, he joined the fray, firstly with the Russell Morris Band then Russell Morris & The Rubes. But record success eluded him and slogging it in the pubs, next to couldabeens such as me, lost its appeal. Then times got really tough.
“The ’80s were my starving years,” Russell rues. “After the Rubes broke up I struggled to make any money for a long time and was writing TV ads and trying to get odd gigs to stay alive. I thought it was all over.”
Fortunately, the misty-eyed baby boomers’ love of retro saved him and he became part of a greatest-hits touring sensation with two other ’60s stars, Darryl Cotton and Ronnie Burns.
“We were on the road for seven years, and when Jim Keays (Masters Apprentices) and Brian Cadd (Axiom) joined, it went for another nine years, but it was mainly living on the past,” Russell says.
Growing tired of looking back, in 2012 Russell was reborn as a blues singer, releasing Sharkmouth, which spent 18 months at the top of the ARIA Blues charts.
After a quick stop in Moama, Russell decides he wants to test the Transit; the last time he drove one was in the early ’70s, and they’ve moved on somewhat since. He’s instantly impressed at how quiet it is and how little it’s like the ones he used to rattle and bounce around in.
He’s pretty relaxed behind the wheel, like someone who is used to settling in for long hauls. I’ve been told he’s a lead-foot, though, who recently bought a new Mini but didn’t go for a Cooper S because he feared he might lack self control.
“Yeah, I’ve lost my licence for speeding [points],” he grins. “I was driving to the snow for a gig once and a cop booked me for speeding. Four weeks later I had to do the same gig and there he was again. He walked up to me and said, ‘Russell, Russell, Russell; what the hell am I gonna do with you?’ Then he booked me. Again.
We lob at the festival on time and park behind the twin stages, which resemble cut-down tin sheds and are also used for Deni’s other big hoedown, the Ute Muster.
The bigger “A” stage is for the international headliners such as The Doobie Brothers, Elvis Costello, and John Mayer. Behind the stages a corral of Portacabins serve as dressing rooms, and while Russell and Mitch do media, I scope the surroundings and spot Elvis – in shades, despite the gathering darkness – strolling around, looking sartorially splendid. Someone else sets up all my band’s gear on the B stage. So much for my roadie-ing.
Russell has a prime 8.30pm slot and the band kicks off with Van Diemens’ Land, the new album’s title track and a hard-drivin’ ode to Australia’s first convicts, and from the first bars the crowd is with him. As the one-hour set nears its end, Russell starts reeling off his big hits and leaves the ears buzzing with The Real Thing.
The band is pumped, it was a good gig, but now we have to hightail back to Melbourne. After a midnight stop for fuel and junk food we arrive at the studio in the wee hours and everyone goes their own way.
I have to admit to feeling more than a tinge of envy. It’d be good to strap the Fender on, crank up my Marshall, and hit the road with a band again but then fatigue, or the chill morning air, brings me to my senses. One last question, Russell: do you ever get sick of singing The Real Thing?
“Nah, it’s like being a pro ballroom dancer, dancing the foxtrot with different partners,” he explains.
“Each dance is different, even though the moves are the same. That’s how it is playing a song over and over, each audience is a different partner. I always considered myself a writer and there’s nothing better than doing new songs for people [otherwise] you’re living on your past. For a long time I thought that’s all that I would have and to be in this position [now] is such an incredible feeling. I feel like Lazarus.”
That’s a good name for a song, Russ, need another guitar player?
IT’S A rivalry burnt into Australia’s psyche: Holden v Ford. XR8 v SS-V. But this iconic battle just got juicier thanks to added firepower.
The revived Ford Falcon XR8 now boasts the same 335kW/570Nm 5.0-litre supercharged V8 as the discontinued, and substantially more expensive, FPV GT, meaning that on paper at least the Blue Oval’s flagship performance sedan completely outguns its rival from Holden, which produces 260kW/517Nm.
But how do they stack up in the real world? To find out, Wheels took both on an epic 1500km road trip from Melbourne to the spiritual home of the Aussie sports sedan, Bathurst.
Here’s what went down.
HERE’S the first-ever three-cylinder from the four-ring brand, a new turbocharged 1.0-litre engine that will power the least-expensive versions of the Audi A1 from mid-2015.
WHAT IS IT
A major update of Audi’s smallest model, originally introduced late in 2010. Key changes are to drivetrain line-up, steering and the range of design options for this premium B-segment five-door hatchback.
WHY WE’RE TESTING IT
To find out if a 1.0-litre turbo triple can deliver a properly premium driving experience, well ahead of the updated A1’s Australian launch.
MAIN RIVALS
BMW’s new Mini five-door is the A1’s most obvious direct competitor; Alfa Romeo Mito to a lesser extent.
THE WHEELS VERDICT
All round, probably the best base model in its (tiny) class.
Plus: Interior (as with any Audi); three-cylinder engine; steering Minus: Low-speed ride (on standard suspension); tight rear seat; luggage space
THE WHEELS REVIEW
ANYONE expecting tragic inadequacy from the A1 Sportback’s new three-cylinder engine will be disappointed.
This turbocharged 1.0-litre triple is capable. It has no problem keeping up with fast-flowing traffic on the roller-coaster 110km/h autoroutes of France’s Cote d’Azur. Nor is it stressed by the steep and winding backroads of the region.
Emitting a distinctive three-cylinder growl when working hard, even the sound this little engine makes seems like a warning that it shouldn’t be underestimated.
The 1.0 TFSI is the updated A1 Sportback’s new entry-level engine. It replaces the 1.2 TSI, a four-cylinder turbo. Despite the reduction in capacity, the triple brings an increase in power to 70kW, up from 63kW.
Unlike the 1.2 TSI, offered only with a five-speed manual, the 1.0 TFSI will also be available with Audi’s seven-speed dual-clutch auto.
Audi doesn’t have exclusive use of the three-cylinder turbo, which is based on the 999cc non-turbo triple used in the Up. The new turbo version is also installed in the VW Polo 1.0 TSI BlueMotion launched in Europe in November.
The A1’s close relationship to Polo means this update mirrors recent changes made to the VW. Most important among these is the switch to electric power steering. Other shared advances are an upgraded infotainment system and the addition of a variable damper option.
There are minor changes to the 1.4 TSFI, easily the most popular A1 engine in the Australian market. The output of the turbo 1.4-litre four rises to 92kW, up from 90kW. As before, it will be offered with six-speed manual and seven-speed dual-clutch automatic transmissions.
At the top of the revamped A1 Sportback range, Audi will replace the turbocharged and supercharged 136kW 1.4 TFSI engine with the new 141kW 1.8 TFSI engine recently introduced in the Polo GTI.
With the 1.0 TFSI being Audi’s first-ever triple, this was the model we concentrated on at the international launch in the south of France. We chose a Sportback (since the middle of 2013, the five-door has been the only body style sold in Australia) with S-tronic dual-clutch (automatic being heavily favoured by Australian buyers in this segment).
The triple takes a moment to hit its stride from rest, but once into its 2000 to 5000rpm comfort zone, its boosted torque delivers good responsiveness. But the drivetrain isn’t flawless. The standard idle-stop system is sometimes annoyingly sluggish to restart, and the S-tronic dual-clutch occasionally dithers, clunkily changing its mind about which ratio is called for.
Audi’s chassis engineers have done a brilliant job of calibrating the steering of the A1 Sportback 1.0 TFSI; consistently weighted, nicely precise and with a decent degree of road feel, this is one of the brand’s best-steering cars.
Handling is neat and tidy, although our test car wore a 17-inch wheel and tyre package when the standard Australian-market fitment at entry level will be 15-inchers. Perhaps as a consequence, low-speed ride was sharp.
But there is no mistaking the inherent sweetness of the little Audi’s chassis. It’s pleasingly agile, something at least partially attributable to the lightness of its weeny, but not weedy, three-cylinder engine.
The A1 Sportback’s tight-fit rear seat and skimpy cargo space are naturally unchanged by the update, but the cabin’s slightly changed design (a little more shiny stuff here and there) remains outstanding.
Audi Australia promises prices will not change significantly for the updated A1 Sportback when it arrives near the middle of 2015, although equipment levels are likely to grow a little richer. Our guesstimated price for the A1 Sportback 1.0 TFSI S-tronic is $29,000, and it’s hard to think of a premium B-segment model that’s a better all-round car for this money. Just be aware there are some brilliant non-premium alternatives out there for much less; Mazda’s excellent new 2, for example.
SPECS
Audi A1 1.0 TFSI S-tronic Engine: 999cc in-line 3cyl, dohc, 12v, turbocharged Max power: 70kW @ 5000rpm Max torque: 160Nm @ 1500-3500rpm Transmission: 7-speed dual-clutch auto Weight: 1160kg (est) 0-100km/h: 11.6sec (claimed) Economy: 4.7L/100km Price: $29,000 (est) On sale: Mid-2015
Two years ago when Jaguar declared its deliciously evil-looking C-X75 Prototype wouldn’t make it to production, we were more than disappointed.
However, it has now been revealed the C-X75 will be built for the upcoming James Bond epic, Spectre, as the choice of wheels for the movie’s central villain.
If your memory’s hazy, the C-X75 was a 675kW supercar prototype spearheaded by then Jaguar Boss Mike O’Driscoll. It used a heavily tuned hybrid drivetrain developed by Williams – the Formula One team – with a 1.6-litre engine.
However, according to Autocar which broke the news, the C-X75 will feature Jaguar’s snarly supercharged 5.0-litre V8 instead of the complex hybrid drivetrain.
Jaguar is avoiding confirmation of its involvement in the film, telling Autocar that announcements will be revealed next year. Cagey as Jaguar might be, the whole situation fits nicely with its current “Good to be bad” advertising campaign.
Then there’s Aston Martin, which will officially be building 10 exclusive DB10 prototypes to star in the film, pushing the hashtag “Good to be Bond’ on Twitter.
This hashtag hints that the recently revealed DB10 will be Daniel Craig’s ride of choice in Spectre.
Despite its ‘DB’ badge, the 10 is based on a V8 Vantage – Aston’s cheapest and smallest offering – but underneath its evocative shape a Vantage’s wheelbase has been lengthened and its width fattened. The donor car’s 4.7-litre V8 still resides under its bonnet.
Easy with those cheque books though. It’s reported Aston Martin won’t build more than 10 cars, all exclusive for the movie, most of which will end up on a flat-bed.
We’ve been lucky enough to spend the last month or so sampling HSV’s MY15 range.
The updates have been minor, mainly limited to wheel and spoiler designs and two new colours (a deep red and medium green), but there has been a minor range reshuffle.
More importantly, driving the range back-to-back-to-back gives us a chance to evaluate how each model sits compared to those around it.
First up, the base Clubsport. Starting at $61,990 for the six-speed manual (an extra $2500 for the six-speed auto, now with paddle-shifters) the base Clubsport adopts the old R8’s 325kW/550Nm tune.
We’re big fans of the Holden SS V Redline here at MOTOR, and before driving the new Clubbie we admit to asking why you’d pay the extra $10K over the Holden, but that 6.2-litre LS3 mounts a persuasive argument.
It performs much better than the 6.0-litre LS2 unit found in the Commodore, with a far more aggressive soundtrack. The paddle shifters work ok, though to be honest I usually just ended up using the sequential sports shift.
The steering is very light, though, which means it lacks a bit of connection through the front end, but there’s an honesty and simplicity about the way it drives that makes it a damn tempting way to spend $60-odd grand – if you’re into this sort of thing. Even in lairy ‘Jungle Green’, the base Clubsport is more restrained than some of HSV’s traditional efforts and all the better for it.
Next up is the Clubsport R8, right? Wrong. We slot into the GTS next, and at $94,490 for the manual (again, $2500 extra for the auto) it’d want to be a whole different ballgame. And it is.
It’s immensely fast, but the 430kW/740Nm 6.2-litre supercharged V8 isn’t the highlight of the GTS. No, it’s the chassis that is most impressive.
The trick 9.5-inch rear end, lifted from the Camaro ZL1, does an amazing job of transferring all the power to the road, the steering is far better weighted than the Clubsport and its monster brakes are virtually peerless in the world of production cars.
It lacks the outright firepower of its German competitors, but on a twisty road, especially in the wet, I’d bet on the GTS setting the pace every time. A word of warning, though, when it does let go it does so very quickly and takes quite a bit of catching – it’s not the friendliest car in the world to slide.
To round things off, a week each in a Clubsport R8 and Maloo R8. The best of both worlds? Sort of. Now fitted with the 340kW/570Nm LS3 from the now-discontinued SV models, they sound fantastic, though the new electrically-operated bi-modal exhaust is a bit slow to react.
The steering is also sweeter than the base Clubsport, but unfortunately the R8 models are firm to the point of fidgety. Never are they truly comfortable, which is a shame given their suitability to long-haul driving in many other respects.
Hopefully, HSV will offer the GTS’s trick magnetic ride dampers as an option on Clubsport R8 before too long.
As it is, the only way to match the magnetic dampers with the atmo V8 is with the $83,990 Senator Signature, which happened to be the one variant we didn’t try. What’s HSV’s phone number again?
HSV MY15 Range Maloo – 325kW/550Nm $59,990* Clubsport – 325kW/550Nm $61,990* Maloo R8 – 340kW/570Nm $69,990* Clubsport R8 – 340kW/570Nm $73,290* Clubsport R8 Tourer – 340kW/570Nm $76,490 (auto only) Senator Signature – 340kW/570Nm $83,990* Grange – 340kW/570Nm $85,990 (auto only) GTS Maloo – 430kW/740Nm $87,990* GTS – 430kW/740Nm $94,490* *auto adds $2500
