It is, perhaps, appropriate that these three up-market down-sizer SUVs should all be here presented in assorted hues clipped from some dubious permatan salon colour chart. What better way to inadvertently reinforce their gently reassuring Made for Chelsea credentials?
Mercedes’ new GLA enters a segment more crowded than the stern rail of RMS Titanic at 2.19am on 15th April 1912. Spoilt for choice, then, we’re pitching it against Audi’s Q3, which leads the premium park-brain default purchase charge, and the Range Rover Evoque, which continues to woo with undimmed designer-rimmed dhaaarling credentials.
And just before start waving the despairing arms of disparity about, we’ll sort out the money. The GLA 220 CDI SE 4MATIC weighs in at £30,030. It’s £32,105 as tested here, and all-wheel drive is a given with this more powerful turbodiesel iteration in the UK. The Audi Q3 2.0 TDI SE looks to be something of a bargain at just £25,765 (£31,345 as tested), but this is a front-wheel drive car with manual transmission. Similar quattro variants kick off at £30,485.
The Range Rover Evoque Coupe Dynamic Auto 4WD is priced at a hefty £41,510, and is here kitted out to the air-sucked-through-teeth extremes of £51,890. You may, however, afford a 5-door specimen with the same all-wheel drive powertrain -including a new 9-speed (yes… and we’ll come to that) automatic transmission- for as little as £32,710.
So, with the GLA looking somewhat the bargain of the pack and both it and the Q3 here presented in an unusually low-rent format, I reckon about £37,500 should afford reasonable toys ‘n’ powertrain parity and, indeed, even allow for the ticking one or two more Evoque option boxes than merely that marked ‘doors’.
Now, there was a deal of speculation when the nee-Land Rover (Weather-beaten Greek Squid Fisherman Bronze) first broke cover as to whether its knife-cut Yorkie chunk, concept car looks would stand the test of time. We should not have worried.
In this line-up of the more usual-looking suspects -the new Mercedes (Ex-pat Chesterfield Sofa Cleavage Brown) and Audi (Basildon Fake Tan Tangerine Flake Error)- it still presents as boldly as the man who, having had his offer of a dance turned down by Milla Jovovich, comes straight back with ‘So I suppose a shag’s out of the question…?’
Then again, that wouldn’t be hard. With such clinical precision has the Q3 been wrought to represent a small Audi SUV that, but for the colour, it’s remarkable only in its unremarkableness; an ocular exercise in body-temperature bathing. I’ve never been a Bangle fan but -in the context of the ECG flat-line that is become Audi model range style differentiation- his once-pugnacious protestation that ‘BMW had to change’ does now have a certain burgeoning resonance…
The GLA plays a very similar hand, offering pipe-and-slippers brand couture comfort at first glance. Though, with the three-pointed star at the business end now adopting Professional Frisbee proportions (should not confident brands favour discreet badging?), the French-curve-run-amok styling that now sadly trademarks the profile of each and every new Benz seems almost restrained.
In truth, the GLA’s looks did grow on me over time, especially the rear three-quarter view. Conversely, no amount of citrus colour-chart yelling could prevent the Q3 from fading inexorably into the background of ocular awareness.
The Evoque, meanwhile, remains entirely comfortable in a suit just sharp and just classy enough to carry off the suggestion of tinker and fidget now creeping into details such as the front foglight surrounds. Such fussiness does nothing but obfuscate the clarity of the concept.
Every time I climb back aboard the little Range Rover I re-marvel at the particularly neat trick it pulls off in providing a surprisingly high driving position within a chopped, remarkably svelte bodyshell. Never mind the fact that every time I get out I skin the top of my head on the door frame.
The interior is tidy and nicely trimmed, with switchgear appropriately sized for operation by the sheepskinned fingers of the weekend backwoodsman. Alas, however, the money has clearly been spent on pleasing the eye above all other senses…
The creaking multimedia touch screen still falls well short of rivals in terms of operational speed and tactility, and the steering wheel switchgear is clunky to use and so slow on the uptake that one is reminded of the length of time it would take for the other end to go ‘OW’ if you stood on the tail of a brontosaurus.
Worst of all, though, is the reminder that -like so much JLR product- the Evoque experience continues to be blighted by the pitfalls of the tender process. To wit, a ridiculously uncomfortable driver’s seat which, after a three hour stint, left me hunting down a blood bank to replenish the quarts spirited away from the backs of my thighs.
Though the relatively basic specification of the two Teutons leaves both with manual seat adjustment, the Mercedes is, predictably, the most comfortable and ergonomically satisfactory from behind the wheel. The Q3, unusually for an Audi, suffers slightly from a wheel rake adjustment that won’t drop low enough, leaving you reluctantly chasing it north through seat height adjustment. But that does, at least, afford you a decent view out; an area wherein -despite its SUV billing- the GLA falls a tad short.
The Mercedes interior is entirely appropriate to the marque, but hardly invigorating. It lacks the Q3’s clean homogeny and, as exemplified by temperature control dials which feel flimsy and have an unpleasant lateral wobble about them (ironically, by comparison, those of the Evoque are infinitely superior), build quality seems to lack consistency.
There is, moreover, a whiff of over-stylisation creeping into some Mercedes detailing. I don’t, for instance, need my digital speed readout to be fussily framed in a tiny telly hovering over a forced perspective road to nowhere. Simple, uncluttered, white on black is fine, thanks; clarity and class make the best bedfellows.
Though a simple solution to the problem of heat build-up within a dashboard, the GLA’s stalk mounted screen is also a tad after-sales for my tastes. If this faux tablet look is truly the way forward, surely the whole boiling would be better executed as a proper, demountable tablet to be used outside the car as well as on board?
I cannot, alas, dwell on the Audi interior because, with the possible exception of air conditioning switchgear located far enough south in the centre console to clash with the gear lever, it’s pretty much perfect.
Life in the back isn’t great in any of these three. As previously discussed, GLA life astern is cramped by class standards. The seats themselves aren’t that comfortable to the adult frame, and the combination of high, rising waistline and integral front headrests equate to rigorously blinkered kinder.
The Audi’s not much better, but probably the pick of the bunch, not least because of the respectable view out. Access to the rear of the three-door Evoque, meanwhile, is a real bone cracker…
The seat base doesn’t simply spring forward when you tilt the back; it’s powered by a motor so slow that you’ve grown a beard before it whirs indolently into life. The resultant can’t-wait barging, blasphemy and bruising accesses accommodation that suffers not so much from a lack of headroom as dire seat comfort and a poor view out courtesy of shard-proportion side glazing.
All three cars offer their own particular take on the circa 2.0 litre turbodiesel. With the higher output of the Evoque’s larger capacity unit compensated for by the fact that it’s easily the heaviest machine here and the GLA’s lesser power output similarly offset against its lighter weight, we have nigh-on performance parity. The Range Rover is the most sluggish on paper but, nonetheless, no slouch, and all post sub-9 second 0-62mph sprints.
Via a typically oleaginous 7-speed transmission, the Mercedes biffs along admirably, and the only real criticism that may be levelled at the powertrain is that it’s infernally noisy at all engine speeds; the aural signature ranging from aging tug boat at idle to the full bovine panic of the abattoir-bound Aberdeen Angus at speed. Odd, them, that for all the under-bonnet blather, the GLA is billed as easily the most frugal in the fields of both fuel consumption and CO2 emissions.
The Q3 also zips along nicely, surprising with a 6-speed manual schtick that is sweet enough to throw around and sufficiently quick on the uptake to fairly rigorously refute the argument that cars of this ilk should always be equipped with automatic boxes.
And now the 2014 Evoque barges into the fray with no less than nine cogs in the box. Were I prone to Lycra and a hat fashioned from a hand of hardened bananas I should relish as many gears as possible. But nine? In a car?
I’d better understand the argument for more cogs keeping you in a diesel’s narrow powerband for longer if it were more readily apparent what numbers 6 to 9 are actually up to for most of the time in the Evoque. Leave the car in ‘D’ and the absence of a numeric binnacle display leaves you none the wiser. Stick it in ‘S’ and, driving A roads with any vim at all, they’re clearly all out the back copping a crafty fag for the duration…
In truth, the shifting’s good enough that you’re not over-aware of the number of cogs on offer. But there are moments when, left to its own devices, the gearbox succumbs to frenetic hunting from one ratio to the next like an incontinent dog unable to chose between adjacent lamp posts.
Perhaps more salient is the issue of justifying nine, willy-waving gears when, even in Sport mode, the transmission still responds to a kick-down request from the throttle with all the urgency of Captain Blackadder ordered over the top. Not convinced.
Every SUV I climb into these days handles better than I expect it too. Cunningly, the GLA manages this largely by sharing ground-clearance honours with the testicles of an off-road anaconda. Happily, however, what marginal extra clearance it does boast over a standard A-class has worked wonders for ride comfort through extra suspension travel.
Nicely weighted and pleasingly linear, the Mercedes has the keenest steering here. It doesn’t roll any less than the Audi through corners, but the body control is far better, which, allied to more than adequate traction and grip on this dry day, makes for smooth progress and possibly the best poise of the three cars here. In all, marginally more impressive than I remember from the launch proceedings.
The Q3’s steering has a deal more hemlock and rubber in the mix, but that doesn’t bother me quite as much as the car’s inability to ever quite settle on its springs. It fidgets, not overtly, but constantly, like a six-year old in a new T-shirt the label of which needs cutting from the neck.
Shame, because, despite its front-drive format giving a little away in traction and mechanical grip, the Audi still acquits itself pretty well in this company; toppling in and then sticking with surprising tenacity until the inevitable onset of understeer at speeds far higher, frankly, than you’d expect to visit will the cabin full of family. Over sported hence not quite sorted?
Meaty yet gently meandering, the Evoque’s steering feels the least sharp on the uptake here. The brakes, too, possess a first-prod sponginess entirely absent in the competition. However, thanks to trick, adaptive suspension, body composure is little short of extraordinary, and the Evoque combines just enough of the imperious motorway cruise you expect of a Range Rover with the ability to be chucked about with hilarious alacrity. Perhaps it’s just the sheer improbability of the experience that makes it such fun to fling around…
Switch to ‘dynamic’ mode and the Swarovski crystal animal collection that numerates the driver’s instrument dials turns red, whilst the dampers turn to concrete. Pointless; the ride becomes unpleasantly firm to the point of jarring, whilst the handling doesn’t appear to improve overmuch.
For all its faults, and the inevitable price tag hike, I’m still going home in the Evoque. Not only does its styling continue to hallmark it as a Tiger tank amongst Shermans, but there’s also some indefinable quality about its driving dynamics that makes it every bit as engaging to helm as it is the gaze upon. And that, in this segment, remains a rare treat indeed.
Land Rover Freelander: Bought by Mudfordshire types with full-size Discovery aspirations but without the necessary family fortune.
Range Rover Evoque: Bought by Mudfordshire types with full-size Rangie aspirations but without the necessary family fortune.
Nissan Qashqai: Bought by thousands of myopics, despite MK1 looking like a bucket of smashed crabs.
Ford Kuga: Bought by entirely sensible people blighted only by their particularly poor taste in cosmetic jewellery.
BMW X3: Bought by badge-obsessed yummy-mummys whose discarded brains habitually bookmark the pages of Italian Vogue.
Audi Q3: Bought by badge-obsessed yummy-mummys who wanted a BMW but accidentally wandered into the Audi showroom.
Mercedes GLA: Bought by badge-obsessed husbands for wives who cried because they actually wanted an Audi Q3.
Honda CR-V: Bought by a blue-rinse brigade which has no idea how excellently it has been engineered.
Toyota RAV4: Bought for the mistress who you can’t quite pluck up the courage to chuck yet.