Norton Commando 961 Café Racer 2024 review | First Ride

Whether you associate Norton with pictures of glowering Ton Up boys in their flying jackets, TT heroes flat out on the Isle of Man, or perhaps a grainy picture of your grandad sitting astride one from back in the day, it’s a brand capable of twanging the heartstrings of any British motorcyclist. A tradition very much maintained by this breathtakingly gorgeous Commando 961 Café Racer, resplendent in its polished aluminium engine covers, heat-stained exhausts, and pin-striped bodywork. If nostalgia is a powerful drug this one risks an overdose. Norton, like so many classic British bike brands, successfully repackaging its past for a modern audience under foreign ownership, having been rescued in 2020 by Indian giant TVS Motor and benefitting from a significant investment in product and manufacturing capacity from its base in Solihull.

We’re promised more on this in due course with new models to come, but for now the range is split between the more contemporary V4SV superbike and the two-bike Commando range. Powered by a suitably trad air-cooled twin, the Commando is back to basics in spec but – as you’ll realise when you clock the modern suspension and brakes – a far glitzier product than the Royal Enfield Continental GT that, superficially, tickles the same Brit bruiser café racer taste buds. Whatever superficial similarities they may share in spirit, one look at the Norton reveals it is playing in a totally different league of quality and glamour, though.   

It might look old-school but this Commando’s heritage is very much 21^st century, having first debuted in 2009 under Norton’s previous management and then apparently significantly improved under TVS Motor’s ownership. The delicate looking tubular steel frame and air-cooled, push-rod 961cc twin seemingly tick the retro boxes, but the latter’s oversquare bore and stroke and 270-degree firing order look a lot more modern, all things relative. Ditto the addition of fancy Brembo brakes and boutique Öhlins suspension with – gasp – upside down forks of all things. Enough to get the purists muttering into their beards, perhaps, but a sign the Norton has aspirations to do more than look good through your rose tints.

And a hint that, for all the Royal Enfield style authenticity, this is a bike perhaps closer in spirit to the soon-to-be-discontinued Triumph Thruxton. All credit to the latter, but the Norton is another level of sexiness, the thin-waisted frame unadorned by any distracting detailing and the stance of this Café Racer version much more aggressive than either the Enfield or the Triumph by virtue of its cowled seat and clip-on style chopped bars. The riding position contrived by these and the rear-set pegs demands a level of commitment and physical flexibility, but if all that looks like hard work there’s a more upright Sport version as well.

Those of a more critical disposition may conclude the fancy suspension and snazzy looks are writing cheques the mere 79PS (59kW) and 81Nm (60lb ft) of the air-cooled twin have no hope of cashing. That’s some way down on the Thruxton, the five-speed gearbox and notable lack of electronic bells and whistles likewise underwhelming in this context. But for the Commando, it’s less about the quantity of the performance as the quality, the fact Norton ducks the noise and emissions regs of other manufacturers by putting its bikes through Single Vehicle Approval, instantly grabbling your attention through the combination of thundering exhaust note, wafts of hot oil and clatter of valve gear. There’s enough vibration to blur the view through the mirrors and send a fizz through the pegs, the engine sounding thrillingly naughty in comparison with most other modern bikes.

In an age of ride-by-wire throttles, the authenticity of one operated by an actual physical cable is refreshing as well, this reinforcing the sense of connection between rider and machine as you work your way through the deliberately clunky gearbox, quietly thankful of the hydraulically assisted clutch. The redline comes in soon, but even in the relatively narrow rev band in which you have to work there’s a rich seam of sensory delight, the Commando fast enough to be exciting without troubling posted speed limits – a demonstration that speed should be about sensations and not numbers. Handling is well up to the job, too, the modest power and 220kg weight meaning you have to work hard to reach speeds where you’re really challenging the chassis. There’s perhaps a whiff of flex in the frame when you’re really loaded into the corners which would be problematic with more performance on hand, but at the speeds you’ll likely be doing it’s not going to cause you any bother.

If you like the look of the Commando but your wrists and back are already calling foul at the sight of the low-slung bars and rear-set seat, the Sport may well have your name on it. But there’s some satisfaction in suffering for your art when it comes to a bike like this, and if you’re going all-in on the retro swagger the Café Racer feels the more authentic choice. Chin down, elbows tucked in, bum pushed back and knees tucked into the sculpted sides of the tank, you feel like a Ton Up hero even when travelling at half that speed, the excitement such that trifling matters like comfort play second fiddle. And, to be fair, once you get used to the position it’s not as excruciating as you might think, the natural tuck meaning you literally duck the buffeting you might get on a more upright naked or roadster while resting your chest on the tank can take a little of the weight off your wrists.

That fancy suspension is absolutely sublime as well, and quite possibly overkill given the overall performance. But the way the front wheel tracks the undulations in the road even with the limited travel on offer is a testament to where the money goes on such kit, the directly line of communication it provides between your palms and the front tyre giving huge confidence. Sure, you’re not going to be troubling the fast lads on their Panigales. But, there’s enough here to work with and satisfaction in the fact you’re using more of the performance more of the time, and have a chassis under you willing to deliver on that. Niggles include a lack of steering lock for low-speed manoeuvring and a worrying sense of instability when parked on the kickstand that had us biting our nails. But it wouldn’t be a proper British bike without a few little quirks, would it.

The conspicuous lack of bells, whistles and other gimmickry is one of the many delightful things about the Norton, there being no distraction from the riding experience in terms of configurable rider modes, multi-function TFT screens, quick shifters, or anything of that sort. ABS is the only real intrusion in terms of electronic aids, and probably a welcome one at that. If we’re being fussy, the paired analogue clocks look a little cheap, as do the plastic front indicators. Other than that, the fit, finish and quality of the fixtures and fittings looks good and with no plastic cladding or anything else to hide the workmanship. Which is just fine. You also appreciate the little tactile details, like the slender Brembo levers for the front brake and hydraulically assisted clutch, and their invitation to use precise fingertip control rather than the big handfuls dictated by less boutique components. Little things that make a big difference to your overall enjoyment.

Is the Commando a truly retro bike, or just cosplay for those who like the idea of one but don’t have the commitment to run a proper classic? Purists may think the latter and clutch pearls at the idea of glitzy suspension and brakes being bolted onto an otherwise respectful evocation of Norton’s past. Which is fine. But the fact that the modern bits mean you can properly enjoy the rest of the package, rather than endure or make excuses for it is really rather appealing, particularly coming from a bike like a Royal Enfield Interceptor or Continental GT where crude suspension, sketchy tyres and rubbish brakes can genuinely detract from the riding experience. True, the Norton is in another league in terms of price and glitz. But you can at least feel where that money goes. Cracking the throttle feels like opening a door into the rich heritage of the brand and all it stands for, and for that alone it feels worth every single penny.