Specialized Chisel Comp Review: Fast and Cheap – Travis Engel | The Radavist | A group of individuals who share a love of cycling and the outdoors.

Most of today’s cross-country bikes are luxury items made only for racers. But the Specialized Chisel Comp takes a more affordable approach to the fast lane. So, Travis put on some lycra, swapped some parts, swapped some back, and crossed some country.

There was a time when you had two options when buying a mountain bike: Downhill or cross-country. But after decades of bike-category mitosis, there are a half dozen subgenres in between. Now, these previously adjacent disciplines have been pushed to the fringe. Most riders are spoiled for choice, but something has been lost in the process.

Full-suspension XC bikes have become a niche, ultra-high-end category. Sure, most have gotten more capable, and thus more versatile. But it’s hard to find one that isn’t draped in carbon, tangled with remote lockouts, and prohibitively expensive. The alloy Salsa Spearfish was a notable exception, but its recent update featured nothing but carbon. Even value-focused brands like Ari and Giant do not offer a lower-priced aluminum short-travel bike. Crazy to think that Specialized does.

Specialized Chisel Comp Quick Hits

110 mm rear travel, 120 front
29” wheels, front and rear
Alloy front and rear triangle
Linkage-driven single pivot with flex stays
Two bottle-cage mounts on all sizes
Also available in EVO model, with more aggressive spec
30.4 LBS (XL, no pedals)
$3,399 (on sale for $2,500 at time of publishing)

Although Specialized’s most racy race bike might be the 75mm-rear-travel Epic World Cup, the vanilla Epic is what most of us think of as their flagship fast bike. The Specialized Chisel Comp that I tested looks, on the surface, like it’s just the aluminum version. Same silhouette, same flex-stay linkage, and same 120mm fork travel. There’s even a more aggressive “Chisel EVO” model, just like the Epic EVO Spencer reviewed last year. But the Chisel actually has 110mm of rear travel compared to the Epic’s 120 mm. It’s also got a half-degree steeper head angle, a 7 mm higher bottom bracket, and 5 mm shorter reach. This nudges the Chisel slightly further into XC than the Epic. It does have a flip-chip, but all those numbers (and my ride impressions) are in the low setting.

I think it’s smart for the Chisel to be a shade more racy than the Epic. Maybe this is just a fluke of developing two different bikes at two different times, but there are already plenty of not-quite-XC 120mm bikes on the market. The Chisel has an identity all its own. It’s modern enough to survive the spectator-friendly artificial rock gardens of an XCO track, but doesn’t feel like it could ever win a downcountry duel against a Transition Spur or an Evil Following. Plus, it is mercifully lacking in suspension gimmicks.

The first full-suspension Specialized Epic dropped in 2002, featuring the Brain suspension concept. It relied on a sliding mass submerged in the damper fluid that would essentially lock out the shock until an impact bumped it out of the way. The Brain was eventually abandoned in favor of electronic dampers on high-end models, and old-fashioned remote lockouts on less high-end models. The Chisel has neither. Its minimal travel and aggressive stance ought to be plenty to keep the bike efficient. And anyway, if you’re racing at a level where a lockout is the difference between standing on the podium or standing next to it, maybe you should be looking at an Epic. For everyone else, theSpecialized Chisel Comp seems to be a smart choice.

The bike itself has some of its own smart choices. Any size frame can fit two 26 oz bottles in the front triangle. On that note, the Chisel Comp comes with two bottle cages installed, including one with a SWAT folding tool. There’s also a cool little mudflap to keep the main pivot from turning into a rock tumbler. And on that note, the flex-stay linkage-driven single-pivot suspension design is pretty simple, despite its many hyphens. Flex stays are commonplace in this travel range. Anecdotally, my wife’s aluminum flex stays have been going strong for ten years. And free to roast me for not updating my wife’s mountain bike in a decade. Up at the shock, it’s nice to still see a geometry flip chip at this price point. Plus, because the low setting is the “default,” there’s even more room to twist the dial towards XC. I never touched it, but I did touch a few other things … eventually.

I asked Specialized to send me some meatier tires. They waited in the dugout while I got to know the Chisel Comp on its own terms, right next to my wider DOOM Lucky Riser bars and shorter stem. The plan wasn’t necessarily to turn the Chisel into something it’s not. The plan was to be safe. I know how I like to ride. Once I got comfortable on this bike, I fully expected to push it in ways it wasn’t necessarily designed for. And I was surprised at what I learned in that process.

Specialized Chisel Comp Ride Impressions: Climbing

I shall withhold my chronic seat-tube-angle criticisms on this bike. Sure, I do wish the XL Chisel’s seat tube were steeper. But I didn’t always wish it were steeper. I occasionally opted to ride moderate, undulating terrain instead of my normal pattern of long-climb, long-descent, repeat. And I had no seat-tube complaints once I nudged the saddle forward. The short travel helped, of course, because I didn’t sink much past sag on the climbs. But it did take me a while to land on my preferred shock settings. There’s a narrow sweet spot on these race-ready bikes, especially when you’re a non-racer seeking to balance speed and comfort.

The loop I ride to shake down and set up a bike starts with some unavoidable shelfy rocks. And after initially adjusting the suspension according to how I thought this bike “should” feel, that particular section was uncommonly difficult. I knew this bike wouldn’t float up chunky climbs like my gold-standard Revel Rascal, but I thought its racy attitude would kinda meet me halfway. It’s so quick and responsive, I figured I could muscle my way through anything as long as I provided the power. It didn’t work out that way.

Each rock nearly stopped me dead, and it seemed to get worse the harder I pedaled. Of course, I was only on my first couple rides. I often adjust and re-adjust my suspension settings for a week before I find the right feeling. There’s just a very narrow margin for error setting up a bike like this. Reaching for my digital shock pump over and over, I felt like a safe cracker, carefully listening for the tumblers to line up perfectly. I wanted to claw back just a little bit of extra traction and comfort without compromising the bike’s character. I ultimately landed on a drop of a little over 5 psi below my initial back-porch settings, and it made a surprisingly big difference.

Specialized hasn’t published an anti-squat chart for the Chisel, but most bikes—especially single-pivot bikes—allow your pedaling force to inhibit suspension motion early in the travel (high anti-squat) but then allow it to aid suspension motion late in the travel (low anti-squat). I may be over-teching this, but I wonder if that has something to do with why my tiny tweaks had such a huge impact. Maybe my slightly deeper sag was enough to put me just past the threshold where the anti-squat behavior went from supportive to submissive without the bike becoming a pushover.

Whatever the science was, I managed to significantly reduce (though not totally eliminate) momentum-robbing hang ups at minimal cost to overall get-up-and-go. I did find myself with a surprising number of pedal strikes, but I actually think that’s refreshing. It’s nice for an XC bike to feel low and planted. Who cares if it throws a spark once in a while.

Otherwise, its pedaling behavior is appropriately straightforward. Even with my slightly deeper sag, I really had to pedal squares to get it to bounce. It made me wonder why so many brands insist on putting remote lockouts on these types of bikes. The Chisel is already so supportive that I found its non-remote lockout to be only useful on pavement or very smooth dirt. I happen to be a fan of lockouts on most bikes, but I never touched it on the Chisel once I learned how well it performed without it.

With all the suspension settings dialed in, I was able to focus on the geometry. And it was a big adjustment for me. My body is used to tall bars and short stems. At first, the Chisel offered a slight comfort advantage on steep ascents, and a significant comfort disadvantage on the flats and downhills. My test loop’s climbs didn’t pass quicker or feel easier on this bike than they did on the heavier, squishier ones I had at home. But something strange happened when I started noticing how instantly the bike would respond underneath me. I suddenly got impatient with my slow-and-steady-wins-the-race approach to climbing, though I’d argue I’m more “steady” than “slow.”

I was inspired to put in more effort than would be worth it on softer, slacker bikes. When I did, the climbs would pass quicker. They certainly didn’t feel easier, of course, but that’s what I liked about it. I rediscovered a type of fun that I hadn’t felt since I owned a nice light road bike. The Chisel would tug at the leash like a Weimaraner puppy, and I couldn’t help but frolic abidingly. Of course, that has a different meaning when the bike is pointed the other way.

Specialized Chisel Comp Ride Impressions: Descending

I stand by all my talk about this being a true cross-country bike, but true cross-country bikes aren’t as timid as they used to be. If you’re coming off any modern trail bike, you’ll find the Chisel reasonably familiar. And if you’re coming off any old cross-country bike, you’ll find it generously forgiving. It has its limits, but you might not find them until you push it.

What I mean is that I wasn’t immediately nervous when I got on the Chisel. Race bikes used to be intimidating. They had the temperament of a dime-store Razor scooter. But not this bike. At moderate speeds, it’s calm and predictable, without a hint of excess flex. And there’s something confidence-inspiring about the wide lever blades and firm stroke of the SRAM Level brakes specced on my test bike. I mean, they don’t stop as well as Shimano’s two-piston brakes. And they would become a limiting factor after I started tinkering with a few other components. But they sure feel great.

Point is, the Chisel is assured, not skittish. And that goes a long way in attitude and ambitions when riding it. On those flatter, undulating trails I mentioned, it allowed for simultaneous forceful pedaling and forceful handling. The supportive suspension and relatively stout frame encouraged just as much action on the descents as it did on the climbs. If I still lived in the western suburbs of Chicago, this would probably be my dream bike for Palos or McDowell Woods or Knock Knolls. It feels uninhibited in every meaningful way. It doesn’t slow you down, and it doesn’t dumb you down. When I had to make my own momentum to pop off a root or line up a turn by skipping the back tire across loose rocks, it was ready. But again, it had its limits.

Those limits aren’t necessarily related to the Chisel’s short travel. I really liked its short travel. Sure, maybe I regretted my allegiance to flat pedals when I was getting bounced around in the odd rock garden. But that’s a me problem. This bike’s intoxicating thirst for climbing would begin to erode with every millimeter of travel I might add. I just wish I could get comfortable on the descents instead of just hanging on. The Nino Schurters of the world have no problem casually shredding on XC bikes with lower stack, narrower bars, and smoother tires. I’m not Nino Schurter. So, I made some changes.

Almost immediately after taking the action photos you see in this review, I replaced the stock 150mm dropper (on my size XL). Impressively, the Chisel fit my 225mm RockShox Reverb AXS, though I fully understand why Specialized didn’t spec anything near that long. Racers use shorter posts because doing a deep squat after every climb wastes a lot of energy. I’m not a racer, so swapping posts was almost a given. But then, a couple weeks later, I swapped the stock tires for something with bigger knobs, a thicker casing, and a softer compound. And I put on my 50 mm DOOM Lucky Riser bars and a reasonable 40mm Thomson stem. The weight penalty was a hair under two pounds. It all made perfect sense, but it may have been a mistake.

Remember just a few paragraphs ago when I said the two-piston SRAM Level brakes were confidence-inspiring? Well, I quickly learned that confidence is relative. The moment my body position and my tire choice got more aggressive, my consequentially more aggressive style required better stopping power. Specialized knows this, which is why the Chisel Comp EVO comes with four-piston SRAM G2 brakes and a bigger rear rotor. It also has a (slightly) longer dropper post and more aggressive front tire. If I were back in northern Illinois, my FrankenChisel would probably be a ton of fun. But anywhere with real mountains, I’d opt for the EVO.

I knew that the Chisel Comp EVO existed when I asked Specialized to send the OG version. And I knew I’d probably appreciate some of the EVO’s perks. But I wanted to spend most of my testing period walking a mile in a racer’s narrow, stiff-soled shoes. Before I fell down the slippery slope of maybe increasing my rotor size, and even dusting off a four-piston G2 caliper for the front brake, I stepped back and returned the Chisel to its original spec. If I want a more shreddy and / or more comfortable experience, there are plenty of other options. But if I want a committed XC experience at a reasonable price, I think this is the option.

Value and Spec

If I really wanted to focus on the value angle for my review of the Chisel, I’d have picked the $2,600 base-level Chisel (on sale for $2,000 at time of publishing) or the Chisel Shimano (not on sale at time of publishing). But both have a deal-breaker for me, and that’s the RockShox Recon Silver fork. I’ve ridden a Recon Silver, and although it’ll get the job done, it would absolutely limit this bike’s potential. RockShox made some astounding updates to the SID lineup a couple years ago.

The 35mm stanchions make it arguably the stiffest, most predictable XC fork you can buy. And the Charger damper is impressive, but not only because it’s good at eating bumps. It rides high in its travel, which is important when there’s not much travel to waste. $2,600 (or $2,000) is a lot of money to spend on the entry-level Chisel if you’re making such a significant compromise that’d be so expensive to upgrade. It’ll deliver most of the speed spunk of the Chisel Comp, and I’d still take one over a hardtail, but the $3,400 Chisel Comp Shimano or Chisel Comp (an absolute steal for $2,500 at time of publishing) are the sweet spots in the full-suspension Chisel lineup.

Of course, $3,400 (or $2,500) is also a lot of money. But it’s hard to put into context because there are very few bikes out there to compare it to. Sure, the downcountry scene is booming. You can get a well specced 120 / 130 Marin Rift Zone for $2,300. But that is not a cross-country racer. Assuming we’re staying with bikes you can buy at your local brick-and-mortar bike shop (like a Specialized), I couldn’t find anything that wasn’t made of carbon and north of $4K. Again, there are probably still some alloy Salsa Spearfish floating around, but the new version seems to be carbon-only for now. Honestly, let me know in the comments if I missed something and I’ll edit this. Point is, we need more affordable options in the cross-country space. It’s an important category, and I’m not just being nostalgic.

Here’s my hot take about cross-country bikes: They’re not fast unless you’re fast. You need to put in the effort for their aggressive geometry and firm suspension to be worth the trade-offs. I had forgotten how much fun it is to go as hard as you can for as long as you can. I think that’s the triumph of the Chisel Comp. It’s not aimed at casual thrill-seekers who want a jack of all trades. It’s aimed at riders who want to suffer a little. Just, not financially.