The problem with AMG’s Black Series

All of which brings me to the slight enigma that is AMG’s Black Series range. Six cars now huddle under this exclusive and expensive umbrella, but I find it really hard to define a Black Series. Loosely they all have two seats, two doors, more carbon fibre (the black in Black Series) and an angrier demeanour than the rest of the concurrent AMG range. But if Mercedes announced a new Black Series model tomorrow, I still wouldn’t really know what to expect.

For a start, the Black Series badge doesn’t apply to any specific model line. And the blend of track and road in their character always seems to vary in weighting. To put it in terms of that other Stuttgart brand, some are more Touring, some much more RS. Some you would expect to tackle the Nordschleife with a record in mind, some would be more about fun or just looking like Batman was parked outside the Pistenklause.

The confusion was ingrained from the very first model. I remember going on the launch of the SLK55 Black Series back in 2006 and coming away conflicted. In some respects it seemed to be just the sort of car that I would like, with fancy dampers, lightweight wheels, a fixed carbon roof instead of the folding metal hardtop, utilitarian bucket seats and, from the outside, a soundtrack born of a P51 Mustang and a bar room brawl. But the 7G-Tronic auto was left intentionally lazy because the engineers didn’t want anything as unruly as BMW’s SMG. The ESP also refused to turn off properly and the sensational soundtrack seemed to have been schooled by a Norland Nanny once you were behind the (electrically adjustable) wheel.

It was a nearly car – and that’s being generous. Something that was summed-up by the fact that Volker Mornhinweg, then head of AMG, suggested it represented a starting point, with potential for further development, perhaps into a ‘cup’ car. Not really what you want when you think you’re buying the top of the range.

As a result, nobody was waiting with bated breath for the follow up. But the CLK 63 Black Series that arrived in 2007 was bewitching. The gearbox was still a bit ponderous at times, but everything else was sublime. The combination of swollen arches and a purposeful stance but no rear wing was Ralph Fiennes-cool and the handling balance was playful but precise in a way that was much more M than AMG. Even Jeremy Clarkson owning one didn’t dent its status.

The Black Series rollercoaster continued with a bit of a dip for the C63 and SL65, both of which looked mean but lacked some of the CLK’s dynamic subtlety, before a sharp rise with the mighty SLS. The 2013 addition to the Black Series range suddenly seemed to be the complete package. The spectacularly aggressive aesthetics were matched by the way it drove and claims of a GT3 race car for the road didn’t feel outlandish. The gullwinged wonder was, for me, a new high water mark for the badge.

But then there was a hiatus. And not a brief one. After five cars in seven years, there was an eight-year torque interruption before the AMG GT Black Series emerged in 2021. And once again I found myself wondering what to expect. With the AMG GT R Pro already in existence, it felt like there wasn’t much handling headroom for a Black Series. Perhaps it was just going to be some marketing BS…

But then the AMG GT Black Series set a new lap record at the ’Ring. Many have ceased to care about such things, but I can’t resist a good onboard, particularly given that the time was a massive 20 seconds faster than the GT R Pro and Maro Engel was in charge on both occasions. I was impressed. But would it work on the road? I eventually found out in Wales a few weeks ago. With its predecessor on hand as a benchmark, I spent two days in all weathers, day and night really getting to know it…and it’s fabulous.

My initial inauspicious miles were some of the most treacherous I have ever driven: windscreen wipers at full tilt, I coaxed the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2R tyres through more standing water than a paddling pool showroom. Talk about packing for a beach holiday and finding yourself on a ski slope – that R on the sidewall makes a massive difference.

Yet even on aquaplaning high alert, I had faith. The front end was incredibly responsive, but there was a hardwired sense of connection to it and, despite 720bhp and 590lb ft, a similar faith in the rear end. And once the roads began to dry, the hyper agility in the setup was thrilling. At low speed it meant you never forgot you were in something special. Cambers, surface changes, the heat in the tyres and the damper settings all had a palpable impact on proceedings. What could be construed as a nervous sort of energy might not sound promising for upping the pace, but as speed increased so did the car’s cohesiveness. Like the SLS, the mass of this big brute seems to centralise the more energy you put into it, encouraging you to explore the depths of its dynamics.

The switch to a flat-plane crank in the 4-litre V8 is undoubtedly detrimental to the soundtrack, but shorter gearing means you can really make the most of its increased ability to rev. And boy does it punch down a straight. Yet, where in the past I would have expected the engine in a Black Series to occupy a larger proportion of the experiential pie chart than the chassis, in this car it was the other way around.

Perhaps the biggest advantage to driving it for more than a couple of laps, or even a couple of hours, was that one of the hitherto confusing aspects of it started to make total sense. All Black Series cars have shied away from a fully stripped-out, pared-back interior and the GT is no exception. Infotainment and a titanium roll cage feel like odd bedfellows at first, but after a while the retention of the niceties seemed shrewd.

For a start, the juxtaposition of the road against the racing, of the highway against the track, serves to really highlight the extreme nature of the latter. Then there’s the fact that for all its race track vibes, the breadth of the dampers and the ease of use of the drivetrain means you feel like you could, and would, use this car a lot. It needn’t be a garage queen. It’s a car in which I could imagine planning long trips to amazing roads and not begrudging the journey to get there, at which point it makes much more sense to retain the ability to set the cruise control and listen to a podcast. I appreciated its diversity of skills rather than seeing it as mixed messaging.

In short, I began to see a clearer future for the Black Series badge for the first time. Road racers with a slightly different skew. A Mercedes twist on a very motorsport vibe. It was something started by the SLS, but it needed an equally successful follow-up in the AMG GT to make it clear that Black Series finally has a well-defined manifesto. At least I hope that’s the case. Affalterbach will probably confound me by announcing a GLE addition to the canon next week, and then Richard Curtis and Wes Anderson will be announced as co-writers on the next James Bond film.