Robert Parker, the American Bacchus When Robert Parker first tasted Château Pavie's 2003 vintage, you could practically hear his review swirling around the world's most prized palate. The St Emilion was "a wine of sublime richness, minerality, delineation and nobleness," he wrote in The Wine Advocate, the newsletter he founded in 1978. Other critics aimed their tasting notes at the spittoon. It was a "ridiculous wine more reminiscent of a late-harvest Zinfandel than a red Bordeaux," spat Jancis Robinson, the author and FT wine expert. Mr Parker and Ms Robinson eventually patched things up after running into each other in the breakfast room of a French hotel (Ms Robinson cites his "great personal charm"), but the tussle highlighted the fierce debate about Mr Parker's sway over the multibillion-dollar global wine industry. That question assumed new urgency this week when Mr Parker announced he would hand over the editor-in-chief role at his newsletter and bulletin board to Lisa Perotti-Brown, one of the reviewers he has delegated regions to as The Wine Advocate has expanded. At the same time, he said he had sold an undisclosed stake to three unnamed young investors based, like Ms Perotti-Brown, in Singapore. Their "exciting infusion of resources" would allow him to provide his 50,000 subscribers with digital applications, "virtual tastings" and wine education conferences. It will also fund more coverage of emerging wine regions such as China, home to a growing group of wealthy buyers The news is emblematic of the digital shifts many publishers have had to make, the new demographics of the world's wine-buying classes and the changing power of the critic in the age of blogs and social media. Mr Parker, 65, dispelled rumours of his retirement, saying he was just giving up time-consuming chores and would continue to taste Bordeaux, the Rhône, "verticals" of California vintages and bargains under $25. Yet the news revived the question of whether the Parker brand can survive the man. That brand is like no other. The bulldog-owning writer's florid tasting notes and simple 100-point rating system has helped uncertain buyers feel more confident in their choices. Theatre reviewers and food critics may no longer be able to doom a play or close a restaurant with a few acidic paragraphs. But the mere initials "RP" are enough for retailers to sell Parker's suggestions in huge volumes and high prices. Although Mr Parker is not the only critic Berry Bros & Rudd cites, Max Lalondrelle, fine wine buying director for the London vintner says: "Nobody sells wine like Robert Parker. If he turns around and says 2012 is the worst vintage I've tasted, nobody will buy it, but if he says it's the best, everybody will. The son of a construction equipment salesman, Mr Parker only discovered wine as a student visiting Alsace, where Patricia, now his wife, was studying. Even after starting The Wine Advocate, he spent six years juggling a day job as assistant general counsel of the Farm Credit Banks of Baltimore. The 1982 Bordeaux changed that. Mr Parker's loud, contrarian declaration that it was one of the greats triggered a surge in orders and prices. His one-man operation in Monkton, Maryland, had such an impact because "there was virtually no wine criticism in 1978," he wrote in an email exchange this week. I was clearly the right person at the right time - shaped by the scandals of our Watergate era in politics, and the influence of consumer advocate Ralph Nader. A wine journal that accepted no advertising and paid its own way was very appealing to consumers. Now, Mr Lalondrelle says, the top Bordeaux producers "will not release a single bottle of wine until he has spoken." Colin Hay of the University of Sheffield has estimated that each additional Parker point above 90 added £201 to the price of a case of 2005 St-Emilion grands crus. Unsurprisingly, the influence of an olfactory sense that Mr Parker has insured for $1m has put other noses out of joint. Hugh Johnson, the British wine writer, called him "the dictator of taste" and Mondovino , a 2004 documentary, accused him of homogenising the wine industry. Such is Mr Parker's taste for potent, fruity, alcoholic wines that some oenologists have been accused of "Parkerising" wines, making them riper and bolder to suit his palate. Ms Robinson is among those who see a shift in tastes away from "big, alcoholic and beefy" wines. It's no surprise he's retaining Châteauneuf-du-Pape. He's probably the last person in the world who can take it," she says. Mr Parker disagrees. The notion that somehow Rieslings and Sauvignon Blancs or Gruner Veltliners are taking over the world is a myth perpetuated by sommeliers and bloggers. It is simply untrue," he writes, adding in capital letters: "Wine sales just about everywhere prove that." Industry members respect his contributors, such as Antonio Galloni and Neal Martin, but doubt that any successor can have Mr Parker's influence. Andrew Jefford, a UK critic, wrote in October: "Whoever slides their bottom into the warm Bordeaux driving seat once Parker has departed . . . will be listened to with great indulgence and respect, but they, too, will become a fine palate among other fine palates. The Old Master will have gone. For now, Mr Parker still moves markets as much as any rating agency or equity analyst, and the man with 10,000-bottles beneath his kitchen has not lost sight of why he got into the business. "I think it is the world's greatest pleasure to enjoy fine wine over a meal with like-minded people," he says. The writer is the FT's media editor