Losing My Edge (hommage a James Murphy)

Yeah, I'm losing my edge.

I'm losing my edge.

The kids are coming up from behind.

I'm losing my edge.

I'm losing my edge to the twenty-something sommeliers From London and Manhatten.

But I was there.

I was there in 1976.

I was there at the Judgement of Paris.

I'm losing my edge.

I'm losing my edge to the wine store salesmen whose footsteps I hear behind me when I'm browsing through Cellar Tracker! on my iPhone.

I'm losing my edge to the Internet seekers who can tell me the drinking window of every great claret from the 80's and 90's.

I'm losing my edge.

To all the smart yuppies in Hong Kong and the Phillipines.

I'm losing my edge to oligarchs with borrowed nostalgia for first growths from the sixties.

I'm losing my edge.

I'm losing my edge, but I was there.

I was there.

But I was there.

I'm losing my edge.

I'm losing my edge.

I can hear the footsteps every night when I'm polishing my blog.

But I was there.

I was there in 1978 when Robert Parker printed the first edition of the Wine Advocate.

I read the tasting notes with much patience.

I was there when he made it into a web-site.

I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."

I was there.

I told him he needed to publish scores.

He thought I was crazy.

We all know.

I was there.

I was there.

I've never been wrong.

I used to work in Chambers Street.

I tasted everything before anyone.

I was there when the brokers discovered Brunello.

I was there when Barolo was all the rage.

I woke up naked on Long Beach with a hangover from a Jeroboam of 89 Petrus.

But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better connections and a bigger wallet.

And they're actually really, really nice.

I'm losing my edge.

I heard that in your cellar you have a case of every great wine made anywhere in the world. Every great Bordeaux vintage. All the classic German Rieslings before and after the 1971 German Wine Law. A Romanee-Conti vertical. I heard that Ponsot named a Pinot clone after you. I heard that Guigal makes a super-premium cuvee that he sells only to you. I heard that you bought the first bottle of Cloudy Bay ever sold in London.

I hear you're taking a wine-making course and have a barrel of Syrah fermenting in your garage because you want to make something real. You want to be a Rhone Ranger.

I hear that you and your friends have sold your Helen Turley Zins and bought Russian River Pinots.

I hear that you and your friends have sold your Russian River Pinots and bought Helen Turley Zins.

I hear that you and your friends have sold your Helen Turley Zins and bought New Zealand Pinots.

I hear everybody that you taste with is cooler than everybody that I know.

But have you seen my wine collection?

Haut-Brion 1990, Ramonet Batard-Montrachet 1969, Beaucastel 1989, Cuvee Cathelin 1990, Huet Le Haut Lieu Demi-Sec 1949, Les-Cases 1990, Donnhoff Brucke Eiswein 2001, Ygay 1964, Ygay 1912! Mouton 1959, 1945 Latour, Apollonio Terragnolo 1998, Dominus 1991, Mirassou 1974, Margalit 1989, Moet 1921, Taylor 1945, Trotanoy 2000, Clos de Epeneaux 1999, Vogue Musigny 1993, Hugel Riesling SGN 1976, l'Arrivet-Haut-Brion 1998, Figeac 1947, Prum Sonnenuhr Auslese 1959, Montebello 1997, Barton 1996

San Leonardo 1997, La Mistral 2000, Yquem 1959, Lafitte 1959, Cantemerle 1989,

Veuve Cliquot Brut 1959

Mount Eden 1974, Sociando Mallet 1990, Rostaing Cote Blonde 1990, Unico 1987, La Meal 1999, l'Ermite 1990, Delesvaux Coteaux du Layon 2001, Gimmonet! Special Club! 1998!, Montrose 1955, Lafon Perrieres 2002, Pichon-Baron 2000, Cheval Blanc 1996, Gunderloch Rothenberg Trockenbeerenauslese 2001, de Montille, Deux Montilles, de Montille, Deux Montilles.

You don't know what you really want.