I adore the Alfa Giulia Quadrifoglio, but the BMW M4 is better at one thing

It’s no secret that I’m an Alfa fan, so it was with great delight that I nabbed the key to RY73 FXZ from regular custodian James Taylor. I spent plenty of miles in our previous Alfa – the four-cylinder Giulia Veloce – and enjoyed its deftness and impressive turn of speed. It looked great, too. Less muscular than the Quadrifoglio, but beautifully svelte and super-stylish.

Trouble is, despite its abundant appeal, the Veloce suffers from not being the Quadrifoglio. That might sound disappointing, as people like us aren’t supposed to be so easily swayed, but hopefully it’s forgivable given the seductive qualities of a 513bhp twin-turbocharged V6 and that jacked four-door physique.

> Alfa Romeo Giulia review – get one while you still can

Life feels good when you’ve got a Quadrifoglio to walk up to and take for a drive. It’s got such presence that every journey becomes an event. The lusty V6 is a real force of nature, firing with a baritone blare before settling into a deep, pulsing idle. The eight-speed automatic transmission is smooth and responsive when left to its own devices, which emphasises the effortless flex from the generous 442lb ft of torque.

Despite this abundant performance and obvious charm, once beyond the initial flush of enjoyment, further exposure has led me to the reluctant conclusion that the Giulia is beginning to feel its age. Not so far as performance is concerned – the biturbo V6 is as epic as ever – but the chassis doesn’t have the poise, control and mass-defying agility of its rivals.

Part of this is due to limited scope when it comes to what you can dial-up or wind back, at least compared to the endlessly configurable G8x-series BMW M3/M4, but my main issue is that what choice you do have with the suspension either feels under-damped or over-sprung, with nothing in between.

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In the softer setting you can settle into things well enough, thanks to a pliant low-speed ride, but once you build speed it doesn’t have sufficient body control to cope with crests and compressions. It’s not forever falling into its bump-stops, but you do sense the car is using more of its wheel travel than it should for the speed you’re carrying. Up your pace and those same compressions regularly have the Giulia running out of ideas. It creates a sense of weight, which is the opposite to the physics-defying dynamics of M division’s heavyweight mid-sized supersaloon.

Switching to the firmer damping mode tightens the vertical movement for better control in those critical moments, but it feels like it’s constantly tensing its core muscles. The resulting brittleness becomes wearing after a while, so you knock the dampers back into their softer mode, only to feel frustrated by the soggy body control. It’s a frustrating cycle, and something which began to taint my overall enjoyment of the car.

During my spell with the Alfa I took it to Goodwood for an evo trackday. Not with the expectation of pounding around all day – it’s not that kind of car – but to see how the Giulia felt with its new mechanical limited-slip differential.

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Goodwood’s long, fast curves were less of a test for the diff, which hooked-up nicely out of the looping horseshoe-shaped Lavant corner, but rather more of a challenge for the left-front Pirelli P Zero. These flagship Giulias have always been nose-heavy on track, but it never ceases to amaze me how quickly they will ruin the hardest-worked front tyre. Three laps was enough to make a chewed-up mess of the shoulder, which was very disappointing. Especially as the heavier BMW M4 Competition we ran a year or so ago shrugged off many more laps at the same circuit.

It’s indicative of life as a vicarious Alfisti that now that Taylor has finally reclaimed the Giulia I find myself missing it despite the flaws. But that’s the Alfa Paradox: can’t live with them, can’t live without them.

This story was first featured in evo issue 327.