Hasta La Vista, Baby… cow.

Vienna. Austria.

I recall waking up the day of the Vienna show feeling well-rested, excited to get out and see the sites of Vienna (a city I’ve come to love over the years). I noticed the bus is stopped “there already!?” I happily exclaim. I rush out the door to greet my old friend Vienna, when I notice… side of highway? Service station? Shit. 

The bus had broken down. As buses frequently seem to when en route to somewhere great (never anywhere crappy do they seem to break down on the way to). What really sucked was that on this show day, I was scheduled to get dinner with Roadrunner/ Warner Austria and several contest winners to enjoy typical (the word “typical” seems to be one of the best outside-of-USA descriptive terms to demonstrate: “traditional” and/ or “grandma-food”) Viennese food. Dammit.  Continue reading

Scuzzi! Babada Buppi!

Milan. Italy.

Trivium and crew had just flown in to Milan to do some headlining dates before reuniting with our friends in In Flames for their headlining European tour, when I said: “As soon as we drop our bags. We gotta freakin’ eat.” Italy is one of those places (like all places in the world as far as I’m concerned) that you need to get out into. That you need to eat. I will never forget before we ever toured Europe… when we met bands who had been to Europe. They’d say things like: “Dude. The fuckin’ food in fuckin’ Europe is fuckin’ gross.” “The cities and the countries fuckin’ ****.” “**** touring Europe.” 

Gross food? **** Europe? **** that! Continue reading

Jesse Leach, German Brats, Belgian Frites (part II)

L.A., California

I don’t know how other band-dudes’ relationships with their managers are, but I’d relate mine to that of a sibling’s bond. I look up to Justin and trust Justin like one would their older brother. Never have I been professionally steered in any direction other than the right one by him, and through his constant knowledge of food spots in his old haunts – I can certainly profess that J was one of the people responsible for putting me on the path that would lead to my food-fanaticism. Arcangel (his real last name mind you) lived in N.Y.C. when I first met him back in 2002 (initially only assigned to become Trivium’s entertainment lawyer, he later became co-manager and eventually sole-manager in 07/08), and he always seemed to have a vast array of knowledge of insanely impressive food spots. It seemed that every time we’d hang out for “band meetings” or what-have-you… we’d always be eating well. I wanted that spider-sense.  Continue reading