Zee Juuhman's Chreesmus Mahkehts, Poland In Germany, and A Glimpse Of The Dark Past part II

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Oberhausen, Germany

Robert, Trivium's pal from Warsaw had flown in to visit us all in Oberhausen, and he found just the kind of dinner spot we needed. Gdanska is a very traditional Polish place in Oberhausen; having just returned from Poland right before being in Oberhausen, I felt as if I were warped directly back to Warsaw. The same newspaper-menu, flyers advertising Polish concerts and artists adorned the walls. The place felt as if Grandma's long-tabled dining area was somewhat punk-rock-ized. It felt traditional and semi-modern-underground-kid Polish - a good vibe. 

My love for Polish beer even after the glass-eating incident (see the Warsaw episodes) should be a stern indication of the severe delectability of Polish brews. I start with a Zywiec (the very beer that was partially responsible for my scarred up gums) and we began ordering our feast. We order a Polish "Test Plate," a Gdansk plate (3 kinds of meat, chips, dumplings, cabbage with mushrooms, red cabbage, salad), Polish dumpling plate, and bratkartoffeln (a German fried-potato dish and a personal favorite of mine). 

All the food here was without a doubt in my mind certainly Polish (well… the fries (let's call em what they were) were not very Polish) and certainly good. The dumplings reminded me of Mama B's dumplings from a week back; meat and cabbage is always a theme when talking Polish food. When it comes to the spectrums of food-goodness on tour, catering is at the bottom, then restaurants, then  home cooked. Of course the home cooked food I had at Magda's mother's pad would reign supreme over all Polish food I'll probably ever eat in my life again - but this place was definitely "aiiight" (as Rob, one of my food soul mates and singer of Koufax would say when regarding something pretty good and not mind blowing). 

We finished our meal with a shot of some Polish vodka (there is always Polish vodka being consumed by the typically not-vodka drinking me when at a Polish spot) and were off across the street to a cocktail bar Extrablatt. 

The place was… sorta aiiight. When talkin cocktails - I'm a fan of the proper cocktails. Speakeasy style. Words like pre- and post- usually precede "prohibition" in the kind of cocktail place I'll be frequent. I had a decent Caipirinha, then we were off to whatever bar we'd hit on our trek back to the hotel. 

Here came the Lynch-moment (a term I've dubbed during a David Lynch film when all the sudden everything turns… well - insane). We found a random, quiet little bar - unmarked, un-filled. We ordered some German beers at a table - Robert, Paolo, Ella, and myself at a four-person booth, Dennis sitting at a stool at the head of the table; in walks a random drunk guy (this happens everywhere in the world right?) - then he sorta gets in Dennis' face/ear. 

Whether you spoke the language or not, it was clear the dude was talking shit - trying to either start a fight or start kissing Dennis. We kept a close eye in case it was about to get Roadhouse up in that bitch… but it didn't quite escalate to that point. The dude heiled Hitler… HEILED… talked a quick line of shit and stumbled off. Craziness. Yeah - that kind of ignorance and belligerence can (and does) happen anywhere on the planet - but dude… let us not forget the atrocities our planet has suffered over stupidity. It was an insanely rare occurrence; of all the years I've been touring Germany I'd never seen that before… but let's face it - the dude was a drunk… and wanted Dennis. 

Zee Juuhman's Chreesmus Mahkehts, Poland In Germany, and A Glimpse Of The Dark Past part I

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Oberhausen, Germany

Germany does Christmas Markets unlike any place I've ever personally seen. In the States - yeah, we have shop windows that are all done up with plastic Rudolphs and dressed-up bearded-bikers with kids on their laps in the middles of malls; but in Germany - there are some seriously done-up little X-mas towns. Oberhausen I heard was known as having one of the best Christmas markets in Germany, so it was perfect that we had a day off there on the In Flames European tour. 

I celebrate Christmas in I suppose what could be called the modernists' sense; not the religious aspect (not that I am anti-religious by any means) but in the sense that it's about being with friends and family and eating and drinking lots of good stuff that you don't really eat throughout the rest of the year. Paolo and I met up with Ella and Dennis and one of their pals - Robert (my buddy from Poland) was due to meet up with us later on in the night. We were off to the markets. 

Oberhausen's market entrance lies deceivingly by the entrance of a large shopping mall. I say deceivingly since the entrance makes it look like the whole market is about 5-6 stalls tops; I soon discovered that a path led behind the mall with the markets' expanse stretching well beyond my line of sight. Little country-style booths with smiling German women waving you in each carried a different delicacy; some with cheeses or smoked meats, some with currywurst or reibekuchen, some with Christmasy booze. 

The first stall we hit dished out fatty-delicious chunks of pork stuffed into a simple roll. Meaty, porky, (a little chewy, little tough) - nevertheless good stuff. Ella came up with a skewer of strawberries with a white chocolate shell and dark chocolate dressing - this was sugary and milky in it's white-chocolate tastiness. You really feel as if you're transported back into the old bearded fat-man's land when you traverse the German markets in wintertime - all that extra chub and beard start to make sense… it's freaking cold in European wintertime! We make a stop to a place that has hot mulled German wine. 

Greeted with a glass that reads "bicker lam", you can smell the herbs nicely cooking in their viscous Orc-liquor color. This is the stuff that warms the soul back up. You taste something along the lines of red wine, a gingerbread house, and winter spices. I suck back a couple of these and work the appetite back up for some currywurst. Currywurst is iconically German. Mention it to any German and you'll get a smile back and maybe a moan of pleasure. Curry sauce, chopped up sausage - all mixed up in a soupy mess - served with some bread. As traditional as it gets for German mop-up-your-booze, heart-warming drunk-food. 

I've had many a latka in my day, but never the German version - reibekuchen. It's essentially the exact same thing, a potato pancake of chopped up potato, deep fried in a healthy batch of heart-cloggingly-good oil, served simply with some salt on top and apple sauce. Couple one of those bad boys with some Konig Pilsener and you are in business my friend. We ripped through those, then some crepe-type beasts stuffed with Nutella and bananas and white chocolate, then it was time for a break. 

We headed back to the hotels to lay around for a while to regain our appetite for the Polish feast that would mark the arrival of our Polish pal Robert. 

A Michelin-Star For Matthew

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A Michelin-Star For Matthew

Munich

There are only a handful of events in a person's lifetime that can be considered as life-changing. For me, there are a few instances recently that truly stand out as something monumental… where I actually recall being in that moment thinking to myself "this is unbelievable… this is really something special." The sort of moment where you know that maybe this will never happen again - and thankfully you were able to step outside of yourself for a moment and quietly observe the magic happening at that moment. 

The events recently have to be: getting married, my first gold record, headlining a stadium in Bulgaria in front of about 17.5K people, becoming friends with some of my longtime musical-heroes, my first home purchase, and my first time eating at a Michelin-starred restaurant. 

Two of my dear friends in Germany, Larissa and Kai (Larissa works at Roadrunner Germany, Kai is her boyfriend - a super cool foodie who knows some damn good eats and drink) were coming out to our Munich show; Kai's cousin Jones worked at the time at what they kept telling me was "a pretty damn amazing restaurant." I never truly got to bond with Larissa until the promo trip for In Waves. On that trip, we discovered that her and I, and Kai as well - all loved the truly good stuff in life. We got to know each other over some intensely delicious cocktails and wonderful meals. 

We wrapped the show, Paolo and I quickly showered, and we hopped into a car with Kai, Larissa, and Jones. Arriving at the Mandarin Oriental in Munich, we knew we were in for something really special. The restaurant that Jones worked at at that time was Marks, a one-star Michelin restaurant. Having zero concept of what food at a starred restaurant would be like… we sat bewildered at the fancy spot we found ourself in. 

I started with a beautiful Gin and Tonic to cool the excited nerves. Jones comes by and says we can take a peek into the kitchen… it must be how it feels to be backstage for the first time for a music-fan - I was reserving my giddiness, trying to keep cool as I looked on with awe at the impeccable kitchen - they moved like an organic machine… quietly each executing with surgical precision their task at hand. I thanked the staff for having us, snapped some photos, and headed in. 

Words cannot possibly describe the breadth of the dishes we consumed that night, so I simply leave you with the descriptions and the photos. We initially were expecting a very hefty bill… and no, just because I'm in a semi-successful band doesn't mean we get comped meals often; after the meal - we find that all food was comped and they simply wanted us to pay for the booze. Roadrunner paid for that. So… yeah… that night - (and I rarely do) I felt like a rockstar. 

Menu:

Mandarin Oriental Marks:

- Gin And Tonic

- Trentino Cabernet 2008

- Assorted Breads

- Carpaccio Of Salmon And Monkfish

- Wonton Of Foie, Foam Of White Truffle And Red Wine, Black Truffles On Top

- Sweet And Sour Soup With Langostino Out Of Fresh Water. Lemon Grass, Leek, Coriander. Shell Soup Based On Thom Tum Guw.

- Milk-Fed Veal With Black Truffle And Stir Fry

- Golden Cassis Raspberry Sorbet

- Southern Austrian Merlot Ice Wine

- House-Made Chocolates

Danke Marks.

München

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München

Deutschland

We arrived in Munich and awoke early, knowing we had a big food day ahead of us. Paolo and I met up with Ela and Dennis, and headed out front of the venue to meet with Laurent - a long-time supporter and worker of/for Trivium. Laurent is initially from France, living in Germany. He is responsible for much of the amazingness behind Trivium's internet presence. He has worked alongside Trivium for years and years, helping get our word digital and online - he's an invaluable ally to the Trivium organization, and it was time to grab a bite with him in his old stomping grounds. 

Traveling by foot, train, then foot again - we were able to see much of Munich's old historical architecture and marketplaces. Quickly developing a massive thirst for German beer and a hunger for German pork-product - we ran into the Hofbrauhaus, the restaurant Laurent picked for us today. 

Have I mentioned enough my passionate love-affair with German beers (especially Weiss and Hefeweisen beers)? Well - I love that shit. I find German beer drinkable like water - with a taste like the heavens. Weiss and Hefes? Fuck me that shit is good in Germany. I order a comedically-large Hofbrau Wiesn Marzen. Comedically? Typically.

I like how the Germans do beer. They do it incredible-friggon-tasty-well, and served cold in giant glasses. I'd be having me quite a bit of the golden-elixir. With that tall beer, you need an excuse to drink more of it - so we order:

- 1/2 Knusprig Gebratene bauermente mit apfelblaukraut und kartoffelknodel.

- HB sausage platter with pork sausages, Viennese and pfalzer sausage, on a bed of sauerkraut. 

- Leberkas: baked Bavarian meat loaf from the HB butchery, oven-fresh with home-made potato salad.

- Crispy roasted knuckle of pork in gravy with a grated potato dumpling.

- Basket of bread with pretzels, rolls, house bread.

- Apfelstrudel.

- Kaiserschmarm.

The Bavarian-region of Germany is always associated with pretzels and beer - so we chow down on that stuff first; next come the second-most ubiquitous and typical German/Bavarian-German dish - pork-meat in tube-form. The first two courses disappear quick. It's that comfort/familiar-food that brings our German friends back to childhood pretty quick; and for me and P? Well… we love pretzels and sausage in Germany quite a bit. 

The roast knuckle looks like something that fell off a prehistoric animals' leg. Texturally it has all sorts of interesting things going on: the crispy skin on the outside reminds you of an Asian-style crispy pork-belly, dark-meat and white meat cling to the bone trying to evade our clamping jaws. If you haven't had the chance to have a European grated-potato dumpling - you're missing out. It's like a sticky, giant rice-ball of potato-y starchy goodness; gravy was the hot tub of the leg and ball. Leberkas got Dennis pretty stoked - it's a classic German traditional dish; somewhere between meatloaf and a giant hunk of ham/spam… but tasting better than the latter of course. German potato salad is the not-so-distant relative to the potato salad we see grace many-a-picnic table across America.

I believe the poultry was roasted duck… however, by this point I was so painfully stuffed that it became a game of shoveling more food just for the taste of it. Pornographically indulgent if I do say so myself. Kaiserschmarm was like chopped up soft, giant-pancake bits covered in powdered sugar, served with a magical tart apple-sauce. Apfelstrudel, iconically German - went beautifully with the powdered sugar, cream and whipped cream. But like I said, by this point… we were eating for sport.

German traditional food. Lecker. 

Stuttgart

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Stuttgart

Deutschland

Having just wrapped up two mind-blowing shows in Sweden with In Flames (Stockholm had around 7,000 people; Gothenburg over 8,000), I flew into Germany a day early before the bus to meet up with some of my old friends. Ela and Dennis are two of Trivium's biggest supporters and closest pals - if I am retelling the story completely accurately (and I hope I am) - I think the two of them met through the Trivium fan club, eventually began dating; created a "Trivium Car" (you may have seen that in press or in Germany); then eventually got married. Beautiful story if I do say so myself. I can confidently say that a Trivium show in Germany is not a Trivium show in Germany without them around - so it's always a treat to see the two. 

My pals picked me up at my hotel so the three of us could have a nice meal together for supper. Being quarter German, I have quite the affinity for traditional, "Grandma-style" German cuisine. Our restaurant for the night was Gastastatte Solitude-stuble. I order a Dinkel Acker Pilsner and make myself real comfortable. 

Gastastatte looks like an old wooden cabin in the middle of the German forest. Your table feels like Grandma's house; traditionally-dressed servers work the place - and man does the food look good. We start with a salad variation of traditional German salads. A leafy one, a coleslaw-type one, and a mushy-delicious kraut. Dennis and I are both big fans of eating as many different things as possible, so we both opt for the Solitude-stuble Spezial. En gloiner roschbroda, a gloss cordon bleu, a schweinelendle mit schbatzla nod m ragnischda salad. Get that one?

Just like region-to-region in countries, Germany has many different dialects city-to-city and different variations of traditional eats. I remember Ela mentioning that even some of the things on the menu were difficult for the two of them to translate due to their Stuttgart-isms. My dinner was basically three yummy-German hunks of meat. Roast pork with some kind of stewed-onions, pork, and a cordon bleu… all swimming in hearty-gravy.  

German food is comfort food and it's something splendid when done just right in the right places This place was good. Damn good. Our desert was a variation of berries, cream, ice cream, and a cookie. Simple and wonderful. I recall that home-made cream being light but still having that nice super-subtle saltiness like from milk. 

It was a nice eat and catch up with old friends at an old restaurant. 

Stockholm Syndrunk

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Stockholm Syndrunk

Stockholm, Sweden

I had just recuperated from some bizarre light form of food poisoning in Norway on the In Flames tour, when it was the night before I was to fly into Stockholm and evade being in the tour bus. Evade being in the tour bus I say? Well… we explained it before - but will happily reiterate:

We arrived to the pre-In Flames headlining dates in Europe to find that the bus company we hired, MZ (German bus company) had sent us out a bus that we didn't order. We initially picked a completely different bus - one hand picked by our tour manager at the time Brian - and naturally, when we were to be picked up by this steam-ship of a vintage European bus… we weren't happy. To prevent completely retelling the same old story again, basically the driver was a klutz and an unsafe driver. At one point, he knocked off the exhaust pipe off of the bus and the engine began leaking diesel fume directly into our bunks. I awoke one day to semi-sealed shut eyes due to mucous-crust, an awful black-lung coal-worker style cough, and zero voice. Instead of putting the shite coffee maker through the windshield and creating further drama - I began flying from show to show until I met the new bus. 

I had just returned from Poland into Norway, played an amazing Norwegian show - only - I picked up some odd parasitic-style stomach-thing. It took a bit to recover, but when I finally did… I did what any rational recently-toxic-gut-aching person would do: contacted a local buddy to get a great local meal. 

Darren is the Roadrunner records rep in Sweden. He is from Australia, but lived in the UK for a while, and now is in Sweden. That's sorta confusing eh? Anywho - I hit him up mentioning I'd be in a day early and that we ought to catch up for a bite and drink the night before the show. Darren swung by the hotel to pick me up and took me to one of his favorite spots: Lydmar. 

The Lydmar is a hotel with a restaurant and bar downstairs. This place is hip. Undeniably tastefully hip. It's young and cool and well-designed. A local artists' newest pieces are on display once you walk into the lobby; dressed-to-the-nines are the workers and patrons alike - but not stuffy-style - more Brooklyn-style. The interior is iconically Swedish in the sense that everything goes. The Swedes truly have interior design and exterior structural-design down to a science. The inside of Lydmar is how I want to be able to decorate my place. That sorta vintage French hotel meets new-school lighting and shelving.

We sit and order our food and drinks.

I go for a local Stockholm beer that I unfortunately missed the name of; we start with spot on crusty-chewy-perfect Swedish bread and butter and marinated olives. Such simple, familiar things here so far - but hot damn is it all damn good. My next course is a Steak Tartare done exquisitely - texturally exactly as a tartare ought to be; the flavors of the capers and raw egg and onion peeking out only briefly enough to not overshadow the perfect meat. Toasted, grilled bread and salad served alongside - magically complex and simple and classic. 

Duck Confit was my main. It came accompanied by some seasonal vegetables and nice reduced sauce underneath. Nice and crispy on the outside, delicate and juicy on the inside. Perfect. Lydmar's mashed potatoes didn't mess around either - whipped and creamy. 

Desert was an Apple Tart with cream. Just like the rest - a delight. 

Darren and I had a great time at Lydmar - a quiet evening with good food and friends. Afterwards, I headed back to rest up for the upcoming massive show in Stockholm with my dear friends in In Flames. 

Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) III

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Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) III

Warsaw, Poland

I awaken. Half-alive, belching a flavor not unlike rubbing alcohol. The reminder of recently peppered glass-flakes coating my gums doesn't like the toxic fumes emanating from my definitely acid-reflux-ing wodka-gas-chamber-stomach. Am I on a cruise ship? Better yet… a 1920's cruise ship? Sure as hell feels like it. Alas - the reminder of why I don't drink the hard stuff if it ain't in a Pre-prohibition-era cocktail… My eyeballs feel like they're swimming in a fish tank that is my skull; my stomach sloshes with each moaning turn I make to attempt to congeal onto the floor to find some water. I try to look at my hands - they're quivering - or wait. Is that my vision quivering? 

Fuck vodka.

I crawl out and chug water. 

Water. 

Water after a night of drinking a lethal amount of stuff that looks like water - makes you think you're drinking that toxic gunk from the night previous. My stomach turns.

Robert crawls into the room - his eyes are blood-shot red as mine; we speak in gravelly-mutterings and hand signals. He begins pulling stuff out of the fridge.

This is how you know a friend is a friend. Even amidst a crippling hangover - he still pulls it together to make some breakfast for you; some Polish breakfast. The name escapes me - but it's comprised of an Eastern European-style cheese, chopped radish and chives, some diced onion - mixed together until creamy, then spread on lots and lots of bread. That stuff was good. Exactly what I needed to soak up the still churning vodka-soup bowl in my gut. Revitalized, we prep for our traditional Sunday feast at Mama Bielecka's. 

Mama B is Magda's mother. Apparently she's been working non-stop in the kitchen for a day and a half already prepping a feast for Robert, Hubert, Madga, Magda's sis, and myself. We show up to the apartment and are greeted by Magda's super sweet mom. Home-cooked food beats all. Home-cooked food is cooked with love - it's an ingredient you can't buy in a restaurant… Mama B was so ecstatic to have us all in her place, that we were greeted with a cheerfulness you can only get from a mother. 

The smells pouring out from the kitchen stop you in your tracks - you can almost taste the exquisite feast that would soon take place. We're at first, given a tour - we check out Magdalena's painting room, get a glimpse of the food being finalized and plated up - then we take our seats. 

Hubert's hurtin' just as bad as Robert and I, and he's brought us a cure: home-made beer. This is the stuff Hubert's been cooking up in tanks in his own home - damn good pils. Strong stuff. 

I wasn't able to notate that day - only eat. We all gather around together and chat food, family, friends; we go through the family photo albums and get a heart-warming look at the family that is the Bieleckas. We start with a delicious soup - chunks of sausage inside, with a rejuvenating sourness to it that has become so instantly-recognizably Polish to me. Home-made pickles come up next - just as good as any pickle I've ever had. A pair of traditional salads soon follow: one semi-reminiscent to coleslaw/potato salads of back home, and a beautiful pickled, warm beet salad.

Potatoes simply roasted with dill and salt is the side for the pan-fried, breaded, pounded-thin pork cutlets. These things are magical. They remind me of katsu in Japan, which is just flattened, breaded, fried, delicious pig-product. I love me anything piggy. Multiple kinds of hand-made pierogis come out next, producing a table-resounding "ooooohhhh." Those dumplings were something special. A couple veggie-types, a couple meat types - I had about 20 of them. The cabbage meat stew was a highlight for me - unlike anything I've ever had before really. The flavors were similar to pickled cabbage and pickled beets, the bits of ground meat and vegetables paired into the thick broth-like substance were jaw-dropping. 

As if that wasn't enough… next came all hand-made, home-made desserts. A jam-filled doughnut with powered sugar and some kind of coffee-cake. Mama B could sell those doughnuts out of a truck in Austin and sell out within opening-hours… that good. Big, baseball sized dough-balls filled with a tart, yet sweet fruit jam. 

I threw in the towel. I was beaten, lovingly into submission and food coma. Mama B even gave me my Polish name: "Mateuz." It sounds like "Matoosh." It means "Matthew" in Polish. 

I don't get to be with my family when I'm out on tour… but when I am able to spend time with my friends' families around the globe - it's like a sampling, a taste, an encouragement and revitalization to keep doing what I do. It reminds me that there is no greater thing in life than family and friends. I was brought in as one of their own - and I will never forget my time shared with my friends in Poland. 

Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) II

Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) II

Warsaw, Poland

After a well-deserved sleep, Robert and I headed off to meet with Magda and Hubert (Magda's bf, Polish soldier, and soon-to-be good new pal). The lunch spot we met up at was The Inn Under The Red Hog; a Polish communist-era themed restaurant. They had an old commie-car out front… the menus were all designed like the communist propaganda newspapers… this was a rad spot. Apparently some celebrities from back in the States will even pop into this place occasionally. Bruce Willis with your pork lard anyone?

We started with the "Luxurious Lard Of The Polish People's Republic." Lard made with apple, onion, cracklings and sausage, served with bread and pickled cucumber. Yes. Lard. Friggon good lard at that. It's essentially like butter mixed with maybe pate'? Spread that artery-clogging deliciousness on some Polish-bread… and you are set my friend. The Krolewskie beer went just right with it. The Pickles are Polish and freakin' great. Our main was "Edward's Board." A "miner's" platter of "the choice of meats and sausages with a heap of potatoes and other extras." This is what I want. All the time. A steaming heap of meat - meant to share with your nearest and dearest pals. Meat, condiments (like the necessary mustard), pickled cucumber, and other Polish typical-ities. A Polish meat-board with beer and bread is all you need to kick start your heart back into life. Couldn't have been any better.

We hoofed it from lunch to the city; we passed where the old Polish ghetto wall was. It is painful to think that all that nightmare happened not too long ago; I was shown buildings where bullet holes still left pockmarks on the face of the city… people would be lined up and executed by firing squad right in public where they stood. Remnants and reminders of the past left scars littered about Warsaw on our journey to the next spot.

Our walk took us to a local art gallery with a show of Beksinki - one of Magda's favorite painters; one of Poland's most accomplished and famed, late artists. Beksinski's works hurt to look at. The anger and depression that he is able to depict in his surreal works will chill you to your source. Somewhere between the lines of Picasso's surrealism and H.R. Giger's grotesqueries is what you'll find ever-present in Beksinski's works. You can't miss this stuff - look him up; a show of his near you? Go see it. It'll change you.

We went to a skyscraper that overlooks all of Warsaw, then to E. Wedel for some dessert chocolate with chili and whipped cream in a hot chocolate drink. Needless to say - that rocked. Polish sweets and chocolates are done very well in this country - ya gotta try it. 

Robert and Hubert were explaining to me the bars in Poland… apparently they have bars where you do a shot of vodka that is paired with specific foods… things like pickles, pickled herrings - all that good salty, vinegary stuff that chases that brutal Polish vodka down. Since I always want a new bar experience unlike the typical ones I get to see - I was giddily reinstating a lot of the fact that we needed to go to one of the "vodka pickle bars." 

We hit Meta for some Kasztelan beers and Zoladkowa vodka. With our shots (and there were to be many) came pickles, pickled herring and other pickled vegetables and bread. It's rare that I drink anything other than a craft beer or two, some good red wine, or a proper cocktail on tour - in strict moderation… but when in Poland… drink as the Polish do. We slugged down shot after shot after shot, trading off between pickles and pickled, salted fish; I started getting a little… loud… a little… rowdy. 

Amazingly, my journalistic instincts were still semi-functional: I still remembered to take some photos and take some notes. My notes from here depict my obvious over-toxification: "more and more bars." "broken glass." 

From Meta, we went to a jam-packed wodka bar - their food becoming even more Grandma-meets-sophisticated than our previous haunt. There was more fish, sausage, this Polish sour cream/ cheese-chive stuff with potatoes, far-more-vodka-than-ought-to-be-drunk, terrine. More vodka. By this point, we had some more mutual local-friends show up, and me and Hubert had begun settling into a good, loud, drunken new kinship.

I traded old tour stories, Hubert traded old military-life stories. One amazing one I can vividly recall: Hubert mentioned his unit was doing training off in the wilderness of the Ukraine. Their objective was basically to survive the harsh conditions of the Eastern-wintertime - scavenging, camping, foraging, hunting - to survive. They one day found a chicken… but didn't exactly have a way to cook it. They put the chicken in a clay-pot sort of formation… buried it… and heated it. Ate it. Pretty intense. Militaries all around the world work very hard. My father was a Marine - and would share stories of their partying here and there with me; Hubert had similar intense drinking stories to share. My goal? I wanted to drink "like the Polish do." I certainly held my own. 

If you know me, you know I seldom get nuts. Warsaw? I started yelling (in Polish) "It's fucking cold, you cunt!" down the streets… started buzzing peoples apartments in the wee hours of the a.m. yelling something similar to that classic quote… then… the broken glass. 

Through some foggy alleyways and by a river, we went into this red bar. Ordered some beers and some more shots. I have this… tendency… to chew my plastic cups on tour whilst drinking alcohol. Call it a nervous tick or whatever… but I guess I completely forgot that I was drinking out of a glass glass. Started chewing - kinda hard. I feel a pop. The glass shatters and spills all over me; chunks of broken glass rain down on the carpet and on my soggy lap. But wait… 25% of the glass is… shattered… still on my tongue. I carefully extract the leftovers, wipe myself down, then the owner comes by and buys us a round of drinks for the "glass-eater." I gain a round of applause and title of being able to drink with the Poles. I am the belligerent king of Warsaw for the night. 

I have zero recollection of how we got back - but we did. 

I sleep a spinning, randomly-waking-up comatose sleep. 

I am Matt's toxic, gasping liver. 

Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) I

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Warsawa (Var(d(roll that r))shava) I

Warsaw, Poland

Thanks to a few of my good friends in Poland, I am beyond delighted to say that Warsaw, Poland holds a very special place in my heart. I don't know how many people know fuck-all about Poland outside of what we learned in school… but I tell you - if you don't and you don't want to get out and eat what the Polish eat and see what the Polish see - you are missing out severely my closed-minded "friend." Let's face it - I've brought it up numerous times, and I'll bring it up again: musicians have an amazing job - they travel the world essentially for free and have hours upon hours of spare time to see and eat the world. I've met more touring guys who hate being overseas than love it; who hate the food overseas; who could care less about the ways of life of the people around the world who make it possible for them to do what they do (and take that for granted). It pains me to think of these kinds of people. If you have a mindset like that… we probably aren't friends and probably won't be. You're probably a picky, finicky, know-it-all, jaded prick anyways. Me? I know you only live once… life is short - live that shit!

I met Robert years back through Paolo, when we were touring with Iron Maiden. Robert is a devout Maiden-fan who travels pretty much all around the world to see them play. We supported Maiden back in '06 and I guess sorta converted Robert into a Trivium-fan as well. We'd run into each other here and there around the globe as he travelled out to our shows - and keep in sparse touch. Well - one day, I found out we had a 2-3 day drive after our Warsaw show to get into Sweden. I wasn't stoked on that… I mentioned to Robert that I was considering flying early to Sweden, to which he said: "You should stay in Poland!" 

I'm far more adventurous and social than I used to be. Dare I say that I may have been on the path to becoming one of the aforementioned kinds of jaded-musicians that I nowadays despise so much… thankfully - I saw the light. The light of food. So the plan was that I would stay at Robert's pad for those days, eat, sightsee, hangout with friends, then meet up with the bus in Sweden via a flight (and not a hell drive). I don't know if in every case globally that it's a great idea to stay in someone's home who you didn't really know that well… but this time I lucked out. 

First things first. It was show day in Warsaw (a headlining show, still on the way up to meeting the In Flames headlining tour) and it was lunch time. Robert did invite the rest of the band to stay in Warsaw only to be greeted by a unanimous "no" - but I was keen. Paolo, Robert, and I all went to lunch in the old town square. Bazyliszek was our lunch spot. Tyskie beer to start. I've previously mentioned how Czech beer is considered to be one of the greatest beers on earth. For me? I say Polish tops Czech. I love Polish beer. I don't know how to describe in perfect accuracy what it is exactly that Polish pilsners do so differently in comparison to it's German and Czech counterparts… but I can tell you that I like it better than the others. It's drinkability surpasses German beers by a long-shot - and I typically always want a German beer. 

The obligatory bread came out first; zurek (sour barley soup with smoked bacon, seasoned with grated horseradish, served with egg and white sausage) followed. Zurek is an insanely Polish dish. Everyone knows zurek in Poland. The sourness is of a similar characteristic to things like sauerkraut and pickled cabbage and pickles (there are a lot of sour flavors in Poland) the chopped egg and chopped sausage and bacon within add nice textural treats in the broth - delectable soup I must say. Pierogis are very Polish as well. Kind of like Poland's version of gyoza or an empanada even. We had meat, cabbage and mushroom, and cheese and potato - all served with bacon cracklings. It's hard not to eat all of them yourself. Pierogis, like all things in dumpling-form - is something I always get quite ravenous about. 

The other style of food that gets me hot and bothered? To quote Anthony Bourdain: Meat in tube form. A platter of Polish sausages served with sauerkraut and mustard was our main. Blood sausage you say? Oh my god yes. Sound creepy to you? Don't think of the name - just try it. If you like sausage and sausage breakfast-patties - you will like this. Yeah, it's a little iron-y… but you're a mammal - your steak had blood running through and around it - let's eat the isolated source! It's freaking good!

From here - it was time to head back to the venue in Warsaw to meet up with another one of our long-time friends from Poland: Magdalena. Magdalena - to say the least - is an artist. Her painting skills when I first met her were near-legendary… nowadays? She's progressed so much to a point that I am convinced in a few more years of honing her skills - she will be one of the only modern-day painters who paints like the classical-greats. She's that good. 

We heard about her back in the day due to her renditions of Trivium band members. At the show, she brought along her mother (a big Trivium fan as well!), sister, boyfriend, and a few others. Magda soon presented the four of us with her newest creation: updated paintings of the Trivium boys in their In Waves garbs. Impeccable. She even nailed Nick's classic… uh… Nick look. Ha!

The first time we played Warsaw, I think 80 kids showed up. That night? 1,000 kids. Sold out show. Incredible. My Polish keeps getting better too. It's gotta be all that Polish alcohol and food I consume. 

We wrapped up an incredible show (some of the Behemoth dudes even came by!) and I was off to Robert's for a nightcap beer with some friends and a doze to prep for my day of Warsaw the next day.

Castle Climb

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Castle Climb

Salzburg, Austria

It was a headlining Trivium date in Salzburg, where I decided that I wanted to get out and see some sights. I awoke and headed into the venue for some really nice homemade lunch catering (a rare occurrence); I met the promoter of the show and asked what I should be doing in Salzburg (since it was my first time in the city). Mozart's childhood home was here, as well as a castle sort of past the city - castle it would be. 

I asked my band mates who would be keen on a walk into town for a bite and some sightseeing: a couple (typical) "no" answers, and a slow-start-to-another's-day weren't holding me back: solo expedition it would be. I just walked towards the mountains that I saw in the distance and followed whatever road my path would take me on. I felt all Lord-Of-The-Ringsy in this old medieval looking town… there's something extra fantastic about an old castle when you live in the States; we just don't have castles like the one I saw peering at me from the top of the village.

It took several hours of at first - streets and roads; into back roads and tiny stair cases past little village homes; then the uphill dirt and stone trek up into the castle gates. I eventually made my way into the castle, then higher - and just enjoyed the sights and the fresh air. It was a good adventure for the day.

I met up with Paolo and one of his friends from Italy and we headed to search for food and beer. I rarely ever write about the bummer restaurants… but here was one: Sternbrau. I didn't do my research, I didn't ask locals, I didn't do it right. Sternbrau was a large, touristy spot with touristy versions of local-cuisine. I had a Gasteiner and Schnitzel. Bum out. Simply put. Gone was the care and love of the Schnitzel from the night before at the grandma-style restaurant I shared with friends of Trivium… no good.

The show ended up fantastic and we felt like celebrating. Post show and shower, there were still a bunch of people from the show - so we figured we'd do it right this time. We asked our friends outside where we ought to go for a proper beer - they soon led the way. So there we were, most of our band and crew and maybe 10 or so people from the show, all on a path to Bricks for some drinks. I drank Zipfers and chatted with our new drinking partners, all getting to know each other and chatting music and each other's lives and such. It was a great way of getting to know some new friends across the globe. 

Naturally, after a night of one-too-many-pints, it's that mystery street-meat that one craves. Heisse Kiste seemed to be the resounding response from our local sources. Like a beacon in a storm was the little Euro-food-truck for the drunken, hungry metal-heads. Its specialty? Meat in tube form, served with a hunk of that delicious Austrian mustard, and a nice hard roll. Everyone threw back their beers and dined on their meat, all the while with Salzburg's castle sleeping in the skyline - one eye open, jealous of our meat-feast. 

Hasta La Vista, Baby… cow.

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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. 

Flash hours and hours forward to a mere 4 or so hours before the show - we arrive, I meet Chris from RR Austria and we're off to make the dinner date happen! We arrive at a fancy, traditional Viennese restaurant with Chris, a Journalist from a local publication, the four contest winners, and myself. Promo obligation tied into food? Bring it on. 

I start with a Zwettler Original to cool the nerves after the intense travel-stress and begin getting to know my dinner co-horts. What I love about Trivium fans (one of the many things that is) is that they are polite, fun to be around - and generally all around good people. I've had many a merch-guy tell me during a tour: "Man… your fans are really polite. And nice. I'm not used to this!" It's really awesome in fact. 

In Trivium we pride ourselves with being normal people (because let's face it - no matter what you do in life… you're a normal person), and maybe that shows somehow to the people who enjoy our music and what we do. I've had many occasions on tour where I've gone to eat and drink with many of our friends (as I prefer to call them over "fans") and it's always been a great time. 

Over getting to know my fellow diners, Chris finds out he has to move his car… so me and my friends are left to do the ordering. We decide on sharing everything (that's my favorite way to eat with friends new and old) and pretty much order everything:

- Bread.

- Baked goose liver dumplings coated in pumpkinseed grain, served on potato and lamb's lettuce with warm bacon dressing.

- Old Viennese brewery goulash with white roll dumplings, gherkins and debreziner sausages (a spicy sausage from Hungary).

- Boiled round of beer with hash browns, chive sauce and apple horseradish.

- Old Viennese onion roast beef, cut from the lean angus hip, served with crispy onions, fan cut gherkins and roast potatoes.

- Deep-fried escalope of veal "Vienna-style."

- Bratkartoffeln (a German fried potato dish that I always want), rice, vegetables.

- (then later) Desert Variation.

German and Austrian food are something that I feel don't have a proper reputation. These things are good, damn good. You just gotta know where to go. Amon did Grandma-style traditional-food right. Hearty, filling - but also with that sense of old world gastro-genius that only the mothers of the good ol' days could conjure up. Essentially, anything you'd have eaten at this restaurant, you would have eaten in similar components of familiar dishes - it was just done a little different here. All the meat was done perfectly, all the vegetables were fresh and fantastic.

Every bite I had there was amazing, but the standouts had to have been the goose liver dumplings and the goulash (Goulash is something you see a lot in the Eastern European countries and Russia); the schnitzel was phenomenal. Shaped like a coral reef (roughly the size of one too) and fried golden-delicious - ubiquitous lemon wedge on the side (use that lemon - it makes it even better).  

The desserts were just as great as the mains - and a massive sampling platter to boot (my favorite). The most unique thing of the desert platter was that spaghetti-noodle-type dish made from hazelnuts. That was something special. 

My dinner guests and I all had a great time feasting on some spot-on Austrian cuisine. We had a good laugh and meal - and then were on our way back for the show. 

Scuzzi! Babada Buppi!

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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' suck." "Fuck touring Europe." 

Gross food? Fuck Europe? Fuck that!

You'd be surprised that more often than not - that is the attitude of the touring musician. I cannot believe that people who are given the opportunity to do things; to try and eat and drink and see things that some will never be able to even imagine - simply don't out of ignorance or laziness. Almost everywhere in the world has an amazing story… you learn it through their food, their drink, their history. All food in the world uses semi-similar ingredients to what you're most likely eating (unless your vegan or picky or on some new starve-yourself-of-something-trend-diet), and will in most cases (when sent to the right place with a little research or help from your friends) yield memorable results.

Now I am not saying that you can just walk into any spot at a food-capitol of the world and have something great. No… maybe that's where those "certain musicians" went/ go wrong. You can't do that in the States (unless you're going for the all-too-safe cartoon-mascot, recycled newspaper-covering, meat-colored-product, beakless-assembly-line-tourtured-chicken fast-food spots daily). In the States - yeah… maybe it's a little easier to find food thanks to things like Yelp and Google and the instant-accessibility to asking friends on Twitter and Facebook. But with just a little time and research - you can be chowing down on something like I was about to be in Milan that would change my already very high-outlook of Italian food. If you do however - just stumble into any random spot… it's gastro-Russian roulette in my opinion. I don't like to waste my appetite on subpar food when it could be amazing. Milan and all great food-capitols of the world do have restaurants catered to the fanny-packing Disney-shirt wearing tourist. Spots with American-ized, bastardized versions of local cuisine. It's taken me a few years to sharpen my senses to pick out those spots… but nowadays I see the dead giveaways: "Children Friendly!" "Oldest blah blah of the blah blah." "D.J. Booth!" Menus in all languages posted in the front are a new one I learned recently in a disappointing Frankfurt experience...

Since I didn't have a local friend available at the time of that Milan half-day off… I had management get me in touch with Roadrunner/ Warner Italy - people, mind you, I've never met. I know the magic of a good meal with people who know food - and all Italians in Italy know good food. I met with the head of RR/ Warner Italy and Anna Marzia at Ristorante Al Cantinone. The spot they had taken us to was known for doing Milanese Italiano - a spot that locals go and tourists don't know. 

Seated and greeted with a bottle of Cadia red wine, we allowed our hosts to order the traditional starters. We started with Tagliere Di Salumi and Formaggi Lombardi Con Cipolle Rosse Caramellate. The Tagliere was Italian salted cured meats and the Formaggi was cheese. 

My god do the Italians know how to do salted, cured meats. I can't recall the exact names, but the salami-looking and prosciutto-looking ones were familiar to other Italian cured meats… just way way better. The white creamy meat? That was fat. Delicious, delicious, salty, creamy fat. The meats were accompanied by Gnocchofrito - something I'd never eaten before. Imagine a salty, giant Gnocchi, only made of flour-dough, kinda flaky and puffy. It's sort of like a super-fresh made doughnut with salt on the outside, and more air on the inside. The way to eat the fat and puff-ball is to wrap the fat around and go to town. This is one of those little discoveries I'll never forget eating. 

To already be sharing and enjoying food with our new friends in Milan was a beautiful experience. Here were, 6 people brought together over eating the same wonderful food - food for two of them that they had been familiar with since being kids… food for four of us that was blowing our minds. 

The cheese plate was equally as mind blowing as the meat board… only it was cheese. Creamy, impeccable Italian cheese. My main was the Cotoletta Alla Milanese Con Risotto Alla Milanese. Again! Another mind-blowing Italian dish I've never experienced (Italian is so much more than the red sauce-covered strip-mall joints peppered across the Northeast U.S.A.). Those looked… Austrian. It was schnitzel essentially - hammered-thin pork, breaded and fried - served with lemon (just like the Germans and Austrians serve it with). Flaky, crunchy, crispy, porky majesty served alongside some ultra-creamy, perfectly-done risotto. I don't order risotto anywhere in the world unless I know it's done right; done in that painstakingly time-consuming style it ought to be done in. This was done right. Still - thinking of this schnitzel in an Italian place… nuts. It was as much Italian as it was Austrian/ German. You could taste the histories of the different countries intermingling in their food - it's learning with taste (far more fun than a textbook).

To finish: Espresso, Meringata, Apple Tart Tatin (another Austrian/ German relative), Strudel (and another), and a shot of Amaro. Beautifully done were the pastries - utilizing the simple, good stuff; the Meringata was a light creme with chocolate on top. It's always gotta be a feast when I'm around, friends. Always. Amaro is the Italian post-meal, post-espresso liquor that helps digest all that mess you just ate up. Lunch was a great way to bond with our new food-friends from RR Italy.

We parted ways for the time being, and then Paolo and I headed to the Duomo church for some sight seeing (I love me an old European church) and the modern art gallery. Outside of food and drink - seeing the historical sites and museums are always on my list; another passion is symphony halls (but that one is impossible to drag my band mates to (the aforementioned are difficult enough)). 

After a full day of wandering about, our plan was to meet Anna once again for dinner - at an Apertivo spot. Apertivo, from what I only recently learned from Anna is basically a bar where as long as you order a drink… you eat for free. Thanks freakin' killer considering the spots that would be giving free food, would be giving really good food. Apertivo is what the young kids do as a warm up before the club. They get their pre-party cocktails in with a snack and then rage till all hours of the night. Me? I had only just flown in… so it was an old-man pre-bedtime cocktail and snack - but I was overly excited to see this style restaurant I hadn't heard of before in Italy. 

We hit Bar Straf for their Apertivo and drinks. I started with a Spritz and then moved to the Negroni Sbagliato. I wish I could recall the components - but I just remember being happy - happy on having all these new things that even after all these years of eating and drinking… I could still have new flavors and experiences. The cocktails in Italy are totally different than ours - the bar snacks were different than even I'd ever guess to see in Italy. We called it a night early… but thanks to good food and drink, we had made new friends.

I can't wait to get back.

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

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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. 

Flash forward years into the future where my mental-collection of "where to eat" and "where to drink" began to be somewhat of an impressive itemization where Justin and my wife Ashley mentioned to me that maybe I ought to start photographing on my phone-camera and writing about my experiences of where I get to eat. That's where it all began. People knew me already for being ravenously into food - but now with a legit semi-professional site (the one at that specific time) - I found a new passion. Seeing this passion flourish, Arcangel suggested that I check out "Kitchen Confidential" by Anthony Bourdain - and the rest was history. 

Justin picked me up the morning of the "Trespass America" tour press conference to take me to the L.A. Farmer's Market. I think he mentioned that he had just seen it on Entourage and tried it a few days before and knew I would dig it. We did a couple laps around the spot, but the one that really caught my eye was Singapore's Banana Leaf - a rustic, humble Southeast Asian food stand. It's advertisement read that it did Malaysian, Singaporean, and… (!) Indonesian. I've only toured Indonesia once - but I fell in love with their food. A mixture of Asian and Indian, similarities to Polynesian, and something more - a keen emphasis on spice as well. On that Indo-tour back a few years ago, I was taught how to eat like the Indonesians at a street food-style restaurant: one leg up on the chair while you sit, that sides' arm laying across the inside so you can pick up the food with your hand for direct depositing into your gullet. Fun stuff if ya ask me. 

I went for the Mee Goreng: pan-fried noodles with two satay sticks of chicken and a fried egg on top. A spicy sauce and lime slices accompanied - scallions on top. Wonderful. Spicy, hearty, not greasy… the kind of pan-fried fill-you-up food that you want. I always want pan fried noodles or rice… and if you do too… find yourself a legit Indo-restaurant. The guy behind the counter at Singapore's was from Jakarta - so I busted out my "terima-kasih" after the meal, and we were on our way.

From the Market, it was on to the press conference. We showed up just in time for what I thought sounded like: "Ok. So that's when we have you escorted on stage by military personnel with guns who will remove your prisoner-hood, release your cuffs and you will be introduced." What?

So I had no idea that I would be getting the all-inclusive prisoner treatment of everything-but-water-boarding this morning. I was taken aback to say the least. When I eventually bumped into Jesse from Killswitch Engage and saw that he was cool with it - I felt a little more comfortable with what was about to go down. I've toured with Jesse before - back when he sang with Seemless; we even have a song we did together: "Blood And Flames" on the Roadrunner United album. You'd think with those two things that we would have hung out before… but I guess our stars hadn't quite aligned to be buddies back then. 

Now - with Jesse - he is one of my favorite vocalists and lyricists on Earth. His performance on Alive Or Just Breathing was a game changer for me. He brought the sing/ scream trade off to a new, modern level on that record. Never had the metal world heard such an intense black and white contrast of brutal screaming and passionate singing come out of one singer.

Alive Or Just Breathing musically and lyrically could be quoted easily as defining that generation of metal. KSE had influenced countless acts of varying genre with that album; the effects of that very CD are apparent today and will be for the years to come. Leach delivered a signature lyrical style on the album: lyrics with a passionate spiritual-positivity and motivation - while still being unafraid to tackle the dark-side as well. Jesse's recent return to Killswitch Engage was a sigh of relief for the metal world as far as I'm concerned. Metal needed Jesse back.

After the conference… we were hungry. During the time before and in between work at the press conference, Jesse and I started to find out that… "hey - we're both food-freaks and beer-nerds!" The similarities in taste and what we look for was becoming eery. Only one thing to celebrate that: Meat in tube form, Beer, Frites.

Wurstkusche is a spot Justin and his wife Jessica (food-freak as well) took me and Ashley to a few months back, where - I was to get the Rattlesnake and Rabbit sausage. When I was eating it… it didn't seem overly exciting or different… turned out Ash (not an adventurous "creep meat" eater (as she puts it)) ate my rattlesnake sausage (insert pun) and I had had turkey or something. Round two. I was having my rattlesnake and rabbit dammit!

Wurstkusche does German-style brats and sausages, Belgian-style frites and German and Belgian beer. What more could anyone ever need? German and Belgian beer without a doubt in my mind are two of the best beers on earth (alongside Japanese, American craft, and Polish). Meat in tube form? Fuck yeah. Double-fried Belgian frites? God yes. Many say that the Belgian's invented the frite… I think it was a past American president whilst in France merely calling it a "French fry" that gave it the name we use today. So if they invented it… they probably perfected it. In all my years of touring - some of the best pommes frites I've had are always in the Belgian/ Netherlands-areas - damn good stuff. 

Together with Justin and Vaughn (KSE's management), Jesse and I ordered our feast. I had the Rattlesnake and Rabbit (a play on hunter and prey I gather) and the traditional Bratwurst, a mountain of Belgian frites, and a Schneider Weisse. The Schneider (apparent by it's "Weisse" monicker) is a Hefeweissen-style brew; light, airy, refreshing… as our old Trivium-crew member Rob (a food-soulmate of mine) would say, a beer you could "skull". There's something magical about that style of beer out of the tap… especially when you drink lots of it. The frites were double-fried and insanely good. Crispy, not burnt; salty, not over-salted. Simple and simply served with accompanying dips. There are numerous dips to choose from at WK. 

Sauerkraut and onions were the recommended topping for my meats - the bratwurst tasted traditional as if outta Germany, and that succulent rattlesnake? Freaking rad. The right pop on that first puncture-bite, juicy and meaty - I could use about 10 of those right now.

All humans need meat-in-tube-form, fries, and beer. Get it here. 

Amidst scarfing and skulling, Jesse and I chatted recipes of things we like to cook at home; spoke of other great spots we've eaten and drank; talked about the KSE record in the works and the Trivium record in the works. It was a wonderful feast and chat. We talked of the state of metal in the world today… how in the U.S.A. and the U.K. - it's not taken as seriously as it is elsewhere in the world; elsewhere in places like Germany, Japan, Scandinavia - it's not just a genre… it's a lifestyle. For all of us in KSE and Trivium alike - it's a lifestyle. We both equally pumped each other up by talking recent songs written and their motivations (good and bad). Jesse had an amazing quote about bands and musicians like us: "We're working class musicians." He couldn't have nailed it more on the head.

Venice Ale House was to be our nightcap before heading to the airport to fly home. Venice Ale House overlooks the beach in all it's staggering Cali-beauty and even has Kombucha on tap. I love Kombucha. More people should drink it. Rob Suchan (food-soulmmate remember? Also singer/ guitarist/ song-writer of great indie-rock band Koufax) got me into it… it's fermented tea sometimes infused with fruit. It contains as many (if not more) probiotics as yogurt - so it's real good for ya. It's one of the ingredients I try to keep my body stocked with so I can "detox to retox." It was however… retox time: Stone Ruination IPA. Mmm mmm mmmm American micro-brew IPA. Hoppy, tart, bitter, high in alcohol content - manly. It ain't for the faint of heart. 

The four of us happily through back a few pints as the sun crept below the oceans' horizon and soon it was time to "Bid Farewell" (get it??). 

We shared a ride in Vaughn's rental to the airport and went our separate ways. Once again. Proof. A great meal can bring people together. I can't wait to spend that upcoming tour with Jesse. We shall feast my friend… we shall feast.

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

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

L.A., California

Time off from a grueling tour schedule is sacred. Time off from a grueling tour schedule is rare. Time off from a grueling tour schedule is taken from me. 

Somewhere in Los Angeles, days before the Five Finger Death Punch press conference is set to happen… a manager is sweating, nervous… nervous of the news he will soon have to deliver to a potentially (sometimes) half-way difficult (if that) client. A client who is on a 10/12 month world tour schedule, enjoying his impossibly rare amount of time at home cooking up a storm in his kitchen for his hard working wife, alternating knife-time with meat and couch time with his daughter of a French Bulldog. 

Ringggggg goes the classic iPhone phone ringer. Band dude answers. News delivered. The world goes silent. "Fuuuuuckkk…" goes band dude.

Manager explains the concept, respective of the fact that it cuts out vital meat out from the body of this rare time home - band dude gets it.

So there I was, on an airplane again, going back to L.A. again on my "time off." The concept here is that FFDP is to put on a press conference with members of every band that is to take part on their "Trespass America" tour. I've personally never been involved in a press conference for a tour… so I was certainly interested in seeing how this thing would go down. Roadrunner put me up in a favorite L.A. hotel of mine, The London. We had a day room here once, years back on the MySpace secret show showcase at the Whiskey; I loved it then - love it now. 

At check in, the kind receptionist upgrades my room for free to a corner suite (not unlike the last stay even!) and I head up to check out my pad for the night. A massive floor-plan greets me… I think the square footage of this room is similar to even the square footage of my rental back in Florida. Clean, uncluttered, loads of furniture, a kitchenette, TV, free internet. The beds are huge and comfortable; 2 shower heads, wide open bathroom. I essentially have a living room, bed room, bathroom, kitchen, and balcony all within one hotel suite. 

After a long trip dealing with vacationers vacating from my home-state, I couldn't be fucked to travel anywhere else. I've mentioned before that I used to judge a hotel by it's room service club… and it was that time once again. The restaurant at The London is apparently "Gordon Ramsay's." I mean - of course he isn't there - but it's one he potentially would have overseen in the menu-creation and all that goodness. The London's club freaking rules. Yes - I know room service adds a maximum auto-gratuity, a delivery charge, door bell-ringing convenience-fee and all that… but I was playin' with house money here. 

Grilled bread, avocado, grilled chicken, tomato, lettuce - simple, familiar components - but here they were done just right. The bread had a good amount of delicate crunch and thickness and that buttery bite that health freaks would have flagellated themselves for eating. Thin, crispy, salty, not-greasy fries were what I needed… and they delivered (quite literally in this case if speaking of the hotel). Great club. Perfect. 

Bed time.

I awoke sleepy and sick of flying. Prepped for the day and headed down to grab the hotel's breakfast. I am typically a skeptic of a "free" hotel breakfast. It's usually not very good. The London's? Fantastic. It was a spot called the Box Cafe - they had a fantastic array of European-style charcuterie and cheese and fruit and salmon and bread. I prefer a European-styled hotel breakfast to the American style bagels and/ or weird curdled scrambled eggs in a silver coffin. Really world class spread for the breakfast at Box Cafe. I remember the yogurt parfait being a standout. Yogurt, granola, honey, and fruit - again - things you've seen in other spots… just done better here.

A bit later on, I met Justin (Trivium's manager and good pal of mine) and headed to the Farmers' Market for lunch. 

In Waves' Beginnings and the Tampa Food-Tour (featuring Jon Paul Douglass and his photography)

In Waves' Beginnings and the Tampa Food-Tour (featuring Jon Paul Douglass and his photography)

Tampa, Florida

Jon Paul Douglass is the man responsible for the gorgeous artwork on Trivium's In Waves. A while back, Trivium had a huge chunk of time home and I had just moved into the same building as JP - at that time, we'd go be gym-rats together, talking films, art, video games, and some of the draft ideas I had flowing for "the next Trivium album." We'd review some of my lyrical ideas, song titles, and themes on the cardio machines… head back to my place and play Call Of Duty Nazi Zombies for hours… eat dinner prepared by my wife or his girlfriend… then by night (when the girls had girls' nights) we'd watch films by directors like Lynch, Von Trier, Nolan, and other legends. JP's the one who introduced me to all those directors. There may have been a vaporizer present at times…

Could you say Willdug (as I call him since he has four first names: Jon Paul William Douglass) is responsible for showing me the path to what would become my inspiration for what inspired the latest Trivium album? God yes. I remember the film and night that changed it all for me… the visual display that showed me that Film-art is something of a reality (before this point, I did not get Blue Velvet - it made me mad the first time I saw it)...

Antichrist. Empire Szechuan. Pencil sharpener machine (code for the ol' vapor-boy). 

So there we were, at another plane of existence to say the least - chomping down on some of Central Florida's finest greasy-spoon, potentially MSG-full, NYC-style Chinese delivery service (the only delivery spot I think that would even deliver to our building) and the film begun. Not unlike the first time hearing metal for the first time with Metallica's Black Album, my cherry was burst (not from Willdug mind you…). I won't give away any plot or anything - but I'll say the film changed me. It taught me of a new source of inspiration that would eventually spiral into the creation of In Waves.

That film was the gateway drug that led me into wanting - needing more. We'd watch more of JP's picks, I'd get notes and lists of what to watch and just absorb this new medium I'd been completely unaware of until then. We started coming up with the fact that… maybe the new Trivium album should have the similarity to the frightening vision of the desolate nature-world of Antichrist - let's… "let things take their time" (as Danny Jones - artist extraordinaire who worked In Waves with JP - would say) and do it differently. The wheels were in motion now - our brains knew where the record needed to go - where the vision had to be. The most iconically important chapter of JP and I's eventually creation of the In Waves "world" was the trip to Bell, Florida. A creepy nature-realm where only Baptist churches and gas stations pepper the woods' dirt roads that eventually only led to more woods and dirt roads. It was at that spot where we created the early vision photos and videos and concepts of the world that became the Trivium record. The stories of Bell are for another day though… 

So yeah. Needless to say, we're buds. 

JP used to live in Tampa, and one day decided to take me on a man-trip/ food-tour of his old stompin' grounds. Our first stop was the Taco Bus, for Tampa's take on the traditional taco (the only real way to have a taco). I guess the spot started off initially as just a bus, but it is now a bus covered by an overhang, with an attached building. A bus/ food truck needing to expand is always a good thing. Double-layered tortilla, cilantro, onion, lime, meat. Rice and beans with queso fresco accompanied. That day, the Taco Bus was truly great. It was hard not to order the entire menu - but the plan was to eat at as many spots in a day as possible. We drive to our next spot.

First Choice BBQ is tucked away in the corner of a strip mall (Florida has lots of strip malls). The inside is old and warm. Office park-style ceilings, fluorescent lighting, newspaper ads under the table glass.. no frills, baby. You order at a counter that looks like a mall food-court in a mall that's… maybe been around for a long time… The chopped pork and sauce, served with more sauce on top with hamburger buns was some damn good BBQ. It's always the unassuming spots that wow you. 

Next, it was a small drive to the downtown area - with a Thai Tea for the road from a spot next to a head shop. Mema's Alaskan Tacos is in the area somewhere near the State Theater (a venue Trivium is quite familiar with). The Alaskan taco is a fried, crispy tortilla-shell with fish and cabbage and other bits tucked inside. The crunch of the taco shell went fantastically with the soft fish within. My introduction to the Alaskan Taco was a pleasant one. 

The Bricks is a restaurant/ bar/ coffee shop owned by the people who own/ owned the skate park Jon Paul used to tear up on his board. Really great priced, casual bites here - with an alright drink selection. The only bummer of this place:

I ask the waitress politely, "What beer do you recommend between this one… and this one?"

"I don't drink." My emotionless server responds.

I respond "Oh… alright, um… I'll take a Sierra then."

Planning my meal... "Between this sandwich and this one… which do you think is the best?"

The answer: "Uh… I don't eat meat."

"Oh… okay. Sorry about that… I'll have this one then." My reply.

She then scribbles it down and walks away. 

Alright. I get it. If you don't drink and don't eat meat… awesome for you - but if you work at a restaurant, at least be semi-aware of how to recommend or help guide patrons to a decision that may make their night. Have beliefs and opinions on people that eat meat and drink? Don't work at a freaking place that serves either. Go sell lettuce at a lettuce bar. Let's not be rude here… I've been to plenty of restaurants with fully knowledgable servers who are vegetarian or sober who can at least get the lowdown from the chef or other servers - without shoving their belief system down your throat with a judging look and/ or comment. Didn't Anthony Bourdain say that there is a direct correlation between the sense of humor of a person and their meat intake? Yeah… there - it was true. 

The food? Real good. Simple, unpretentious (the food in this case), and at a price-point that I was quite impressed with (I felt a venue like this one could have charged a bit more - but thankfully didn't).  

On our walk back to the parking garage, Willdug pointed out some of the old spots he would frequent back in the day… dancin' up a storm and raging (in his own special raging sort of way). It was a great insight into seeing the place where a dear friend sorta grew up. We drove back pleasantly full and buzzed and called it a day. 

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part IV)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6l3BMxxUPU (Video of "Creeping Death" performed by Trivium, Corey Taylor, Robb Flynn)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNrrgo2IRlo (Video of "In Waves" by Trivium)

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part IV)

Los Angeles

(w/ Robb Flynn, Corey Taylor, Trivium, Slipknot, Machine Head, Danny Worsnop (Asking Alexandira), John Moyer (Adrenaline Mob/ Disturbed), Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top), Lizzie Hale (Halestorm), and everyone from the Metal and Rock universe)

Full of good times and good food, we headed back to the area by the award show and parted ways for the time being. Ashley and I prepared to head over to the Golden Gods and eventually met up with Trivium band and crew and management and label. The concept of the "Golden God Awards" is one that originated in the U.K. with our friends at Metal Hammer magazine. The Golden Gods in the U.K. is essentially primarily for all things Metal. It's an awards show with performances and readers and bands and celebrities who all gather once a year to pay tribute to artists who deserve tribute according to the readership. Metal Hammer U.K. is one of my personal favorite magazines on Earth - it's always stuck to it's guns of being whole-heartedly metal. It'll delve here and there around the Metal-genre, but is always at heart… about the lifestyle of Metal.

The first Golden Gods in the USA was put on by Revolver (and all since in the USA as well) - the first one that I went to… wasn't quite there to say the least. This time around? Shit. They got it nailed. Chock-full of Rock and Metal's finest artists, a couple great (a couple not so great) performers and collaborations, great staging, lighting, artist-treatment, press… all that. Revolver nailed it on this one. 

Ever since our band's… let's call it… "re-birth"… we've basically gotten along with everyone in our genre and surrounding genre; making amends with most of those who we would have needed to make amends with maybe due to past turmoils (more on those in my future book perhaps…) - I am sure there are still a few who have been perhaps wronged by a younger, more piss-and-vinegar-and-jizz-and-shit-filled Matt Heafy and/or Trivium - and we'll get around to making amends one day (if you are deserving of it). I digress. Yes - it is great to run into all our buddies from past, present, and future touring. We caught up with John from Disturbed/Adrenaline Mob and Mike Portnoy from A.Mob as well; Lizzie Hale interviewed us alongside Megadeth; we got a sick photo with Billy Gibbons from ZZ Top; got interviewed by Dee Snyder; bumped into Lacuna Coil and a couple other friends from the industry like Zakk Wylde (!). 

Never in a million years did I think my dressing room sign would read: "Trivium, Slipknot, Robb Flynn." That fuckin' rules. We were able to catch up with Dave from Machine Head, Sid and Clown from Slipknot - and share the d.room, watching the award show from our T.V. Those of us in Trivslip-Head warmed up, suited up and headed down to rip that award show a new pooper. 

Trivium is a metal band, and we are damn proud of it. We love playing to people who haven't been shown the light of metal. We knew our fans were there in spirit (and Xbox live-stream-spirit), so yeah - we were playing a show to them… those who were there at the awards show and didn't know us… we were there for some "Kirisute Gomen." We dropped a punishing performance of "In Waves" and "Pull Harder," then gave the introduction for Robb and Corey. 

It may be gutsy to say (keep in mind, this is the same guy who is quoted with that whole "next Metallica" thing) but I would daresay that that performance of "Creeping Death" was the best performance of that song outside of Metallica performing it. It was monumental and amazing. I thank Robb and Corey for making another one of our dreams come true. 

After the show, it was a quick couple of reunions (I got to see my buddy Danny from Asking Alexandira real quickly, he sent me a shot of the performance from side stage) then a couple of interviews. One of the interviews, crazily enough, was with Zakk Wylde interviewing us. It was unfortunately cut short due to Gene Simmons needing to be interviewed by him so ASAP that they shoveled us out of the way (it was Gene Simmons though… so I didn't mind and wouldn't have wanted to keep him waiting… he is the man). 

The boys hung out and captured and broke some hearts… me and Ash were beat and wanted to rest up for our 4 am lobby call. 

All in all… completely (obviously) worth the trip.

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part III)

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part III)

Los Angeles

(w/ Robb Flynn, Corey Taylor, Trivium, Slipknot, Machine Head, Danny Worsnop (Asking Alexandira), John Moyer (Adrenaline Mob/ Disturbed), Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top), Lizzie Hale (Halestorm), and everyone from the Metal and Rock universe)

Machine Head was the first live Metal band I've ever seen. My dad used to take me to the House Of Blues Orlando whenever a rad show was coming by (school nights included!) and took me to see Machine Head on their "Year Of The Dragon" tour. By that point, I had only recently gotten into Metal with bands like Metallica, Slayer, and Pantera - I hadn't yet delved into a band like Machine Head yet. 

I'll never forget that show - Robb's control over the crowd was intense, yet effortless; I remember him using his right hand for motioning the crowd on to move while still hammering on his guitar, playing with his left hand, singing simultaneously; the band was on fire that night… the entire crowd chanting "Machine Fuckin' Head!" before they went on and in between every song. Having never heard of or head MH before that point, you can imagine an introduction of a blistering headlining set from the band would certainly strike a nerve for someone new to the metal world. (I still own the tour shirt from that very show).

I got home that night, listening to samples of their albums on Amazon.com - preparing to hit the record stores the following day to collect every cd. I had to order some of the albums through actual stores like Borders and wait (!) for the albums to show up. It was well worth the wait. I got into Machine Head on The Burning Red, then tracked backwards into The More Things Change and  Burn My Eyes. The first time I heard "Ten Ton Hammer" and "Davidian"? I was a changed person… I started playing guitar differently, writing songs differently - adding an extra intensity to my vocals like Flynn at Trivium band practices. 

Years later, Trivium were on their third tour ever, supporting Machine Head and Chimaira across North America. Man were we nervous to meet the MH guys. The tour went fantastically (it was the tour that we inducted Paolo officially into Trivium) and we ended up becoming friends with the Machine Head band and crew. Over the years, we would share many more tours together, occasionally guest-performing with each other's bands in random spots across the globe (I played guitar for Machine Head for one bit of one tour; Robb has performed "Pull Harder" with us numerous times; I did my first failed stage dive off their stage… we even had a co-headlining tour that did 5,000-8,000 people a night). 

Nowadays, I am proud to call Robb not only a hero and a mentor, but a friend - he even helped coach me along before Shogun and In Waves to really make the albums right. The chat before Shogun was an all-encompassing lighting-of-a-fire-beneath my ass to recapture the intensity of what Trivium was on Ascendancy… to truly deliver what our band was meant to be. The discussion before In Waves was the conversation that saved the vocal performances on that record… I had hit a major slump in the studio around vocal time. We had tracked some of the verse lines 30 times with none of the performances being "the one." Defeated, I reached out to Robb - he took me through his mental processes when he does vocals on his records. The chat inspired me to deliver some of the most intense vocals I've tracked to date. The very first thing I recorded after our chat was the entirety of "Chaos Reigns." If that doesn't show that his chat inspired me… I don't know what will. 

So yeah, it's always good to see our MH buddies. 

Robb, Ashley, and I all drove to a restaurant Ash and I had heard of, The Fat Dog. I had a Saison DuPont Belgian Farmhouse Ale to start up, and ordered "The Fat Dog" hotdog. The restaurant had all the things that Flynn and I dig - the right decor, booze, food from good sources… it's funny, we've unknowingly picked the same restaurant in similar towns on many occasions and told each other about "a great local spot in Jackon, MI" for example. We used to do this thing… where in any hotel around the world that would have a Club Sandwich for room service, we'd judge how good that hotel is by their Club - later trading notes on our "research." 

The Saison went perfectly with my foot-long hot dog - as damn good as any great dog coulda been. Robb had a salmon sandwich special, and Ashley had some kind of chicken sandwich that I ate half of. It was good to get out for a good bite with a long-time pal and chat old stories, other great eats, and basically be out with someone else who lives the same sorta life I do.  

From this spot, I wanted to stop by The Newsroom restaurant for one of their Immune Rocket Booster juices. It has several vegetable juices, ginger, echinacea, flax seed oil and golden seal all in one slightly-colder than room-temperature juice. Yeah - some people may be a little turned off by this intensely earthy-flavored elixir… but it's the sort of thing that you know is good for you as soon as you start suckin it down (heh…). I like the concept of (my made up quote): "Detox to retox." I work hard so I can play hard… I eat granola and yogurt and fruit and vegetables and drink apple cider vinegar and Kombucha so that when it's time to eat a deep-fried ice cream bar with foie gras and marrow on-top with a bottle of sake… I can do it knowing I will retain some of my healthiness. (Hence all the yoga and eating…)

Our quest from here led us to our initial task-at-hand… acquiring badass leather jackets. I can't tell you where we went or what we found where… all I can tell you is that what we each found was pretty damn bad ass… and you? You find your own leather jacket… 

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part II)

Flynn and Heafy at Grammy Museum, "review" the "genres"

Flynn and Heafy at Grammy Museum Video 2

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part II)

Los Angeles

(w/ Robb Flynn, Corey Taylor, Trivium, Slipknot, Machine Head, Danny Worsnop (Asking Alexandira), John Moyer (Adrenaline Mob/ Disturbed), Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top), Lizzie Hale (Halestorm), and everyone from the Metal and Rock universe)

The next morning, Ashley and I met up with Corey and Stephanie Taylor to head over to the the venue for a soundcheck. What's insane about my life (well - another one of the many insane things) is that I can even write that. Yeah - I was heading over to the Nokia Theater to rehearse a Metallica song with the singer of Slipknot/Stonesour and the singer/guitarist of Machine Head. Not many food-nerd/comic book kids/video game geeks/band-dudes can say that.

A slightly confusing attempt to get in through a side door with the (non)assistance of a very rude staff member, and we were in. We rehearsed "Creeping Death" solo with Trivium at first, then suited up to perform with Corey and Robb. I had my in-ears in, the wedges cranking… and there it was - I was able to play and listen in simultaneously to quite possibly one of the coolest things my two ears would ever hear: a direct sound-feed of two of my favorite singers ever jamming along to one of my favorite songs ever. I know many of you are familiar with how great Corey Taylor's voice sounds on record and in P.A…. but through in-ears? Fuck. His voice is one-of-a-kind. I couldn't even describe it to you - all I can say is that that soundcheck was a sound I will never forget for the rest of my life. 3 guitars consisting of Robb Flynn, Corey Beaulieu, and myself? Punishingly heavy. I dare you to find a trio that has played together with a more destructive rhythm tone than that. 

Anyone who ever doubts what I may do as being legit or cool or whatever… my band practice that morning - was one of the coolest moments of my life. Playing a Metallica song with Slipknot and Machine Head and Trivium.

Everyone parted ways to get prepped for their "black carpet walks" and press and all that, and me and Robb headed to the Grammy Museum to check out their "Heavy Metal History" exhibit…

Don't get me wrong, I am happy that the States is recognizing Metal as a real genre of music. Metal everywhere else in the world is a lifestyle and needless to say - the USA just hasn't really ever given it the proper recognition it deserves. I feel there are things in the States that detract from Metal's credibility. Things that make it a cheesy fashion-statement almost. I won't specifically reference what fake bands, T.V. shows, and "celebrity" "personalities" give metal that almost shtick/kitsch vibe… but those don't help matters.

So yes - I do appreciate that the Grammy Museum took the time to put on the exhibit - but they fell pretty short of accurate in many departments. As you can see in the two video reviews that Robb and I did, the genres were completely off and their vinyl collection was just plain silly. If you are going to do a vinyl collection of metal… do the proper albums. Get vinyl of important albums like: "Master Of Puppets," "Bonded By Blood," "Tomb Of The Mutilated," "Black Sabbath," "The Blackening," "Alive Or Just Breathing," "The New Order," "Symbolic," "Chaos A.D.," etc. Not newly released Rock bands and/or scene-bands. Pop up "Transylvanian Hunger," "De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas," "Among The Living," and other gems - don't (as the curator who came to address Robb and I's concern) print up covers "because they look scary." Be legit… teach kids and parents who would come to this museum to learn actual information.

Hell. Have me and Robb do it up next time. I feel it is integral that kids know where the pedal-tone rhythm riffs come from that we all use so flippantly nowadays. It's from the city of Gothenburg. It's from "Slaughter Of The Soul" and "The Jester Race" and "The Gallery." Where is "Burn My Eyes" and "Vulgar Display of Power"? How the fuck did you cover up that much of a wall and miss that many important Metal albums. Where's the Bay Area for that matter on your wall?

And the genres?? Ah. I can't go into it again. They basically classified a T-Rex as an Herbivore 50 times. 

The Danny Worsnop screaming game I thought was pretty cool - it makes you actually scream versus not. Compare that to Guitar Hero and Rock Band, where you're not really playing guitar - in this, you would have to shred your cords up a bit. How 'bout you program a screaming game of me making you do a rendition of a Capharnaum song? 

There were some really great artifacts of some iconic metal stuff in the further gallery: Chuck from Death's guitar and some early photos (if you consider yourself a fan of metal and don't own many Death albums… you need to either revisit your classification of yourself as a metal fan… or go get 2-3 of their records immediately). They had Dime's CFH guitar, all the Slipknot masks and Yngwie's Beethoven-esque shred-suit. 

It was unfortunate that the exhibit didn't get properly into Metal's sub-genres… things like Black Metal and Death metal. Black Metal's 90s era had such intense rivalries and murders and Church burnings and occultism and Satanism - how could you not wanna scare kiddos with that? Death Metal is of utmost importance when talking metal… there was the Tampa scene and the Stockholm scene… the later development of the Gothenburg Melodic Death Metal scene… I'll do a history lesson one day.

Robb and I were starved by that point… so, with Ashley - we all got into his black Challenger and headed to a search for food and for leather jackets. 

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part I)

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part I)

Los Angeles

(w/ Robb Flynn, Corey Taylor, Trivium, Slipknot, Machine Head, Danny Worsnop (Asking Alexandira), John Moyer (Adrenaline Mob/ Disturbed), Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top), Lizzie Hale (Halestorm), and everyone from the Metal and Rock universe)

2012 very well may be the final year for all us mere-mortals, and if Trivium's schedule is any indication - I may welcome the relaxation post apocalypse. After slugging away tour into consecutive-tour, we were supposed to have around 10 days off at home - however in usual Trivium fashion, there was a catch.

We wrapped up the Asking Alexandria tour, flew home for a few days, then flew back out to L.A. for the Golden Gods awards show and performance. Ashley and I got in a night early and wanted to hit up some decent food. We stayed across the street from the Grammy Museum at a newly renovated hotel (it was a Days Inn or Best Western at the first USA Golden Gods… and man did it suck then - it was good now, but the name slips me). We were a short walk away from a "noun and noun" New American restaurant (and you know me and that New American), so we headed to Bar And Kitchen. 

L.A…. I definitely had an off-perception of the city for years. I was convinced that L.A. was only for the air-headed, coked up, ex-child star actresses and rock-star-style-printed douche-bag clothing-wearing Jersey Shore extra-looking mother-effers who would find themselves at the end of the night puking up their jello-shots into the storm drains outside of The Rainbow. It may have taken me a couple trips outside of the area around "rock and roll" L.A. to see otherwise… but I tell ya - once I saw the light - it was blinding.

The people in L.A. are actually pretty damn nice. And they know their food and drinks. Real well. It seems with minimal effort, almost anywhere in the surrounding subsections of LaLa-land, you can find some seriously legit ethnic hole-in-the-wall spots and fancy spots alike; dive bars and proper classic cocktail bars exist symbiotically. Bar And Kitchen is something that would be more so a rarity in maybe a place like Ft. Wayne, but in L.A. - there are tons of New American spots that do it incredibly well. The Venice Beach area? The amount of great food out there is what convinced me finally that "yeah - I could live here." 

At B and K, I began with a Moonlighter (Islay Scotch, Blanc Vermouth, St. Germain and bitters) - a manly, deep-flavored cocktail. It was the initial opening flavor of citrusy/rind-bitters, and the finish of Scotch. It was like drinking Scotch without the all-intensive bite. We begun with a Beet Salad that consisted of shaved fennel, orange, goat cheese and a hazelnut vinaigrette. The mix of shaved fennel and orange is a combo I've recently become rather infatuated with. Fresh, summer-flavors with that almost vinegar-pickley flavor in the fennel and vinaigrette pairing - it reminded me of Polish pickle-flavors - I loved it. 

Parmesan Truffle Tots? Fuck yes. Anything "tater tot" is a must for me. Perfect. My main was Shrimp and Grits done with a Spanish Chorizo ragout. Best Shrimp and Grits I've ever had. Hands down. The sauce that surrounded the grits… could be compared to Franks Hot Sauce with a slight vinegary-base maybe? And I mean that in the holy-fricking-shit-this-rocks sort of way. The Chorizo and Shrimp pairing reminded me of the seafood/sausage pairing you'd see in Portuguese food. Tangy, spicy, hearty - this thing had so much flavor bursting out of what would be perceived as such a simple dish. Really spot on. 

Ashley had the Kurobata Pork Shank with Spatzle, brusels sprouts two-ways and a bourbon mustard sauce. You can't see due to the dim lighting, but this thing belongs in Game Of Thrones, being eaten by a White Walker… it was medieval and massive. I tried to help finish it - but it was futile. Really fantastic regardless - but I was still gushing over my Shrimp and Grits that reminded me of Portugal and Franks.  

It's odd when I'm too full for desert - but I was. Oh well. More food the next day. 

Down With The Rudy's (featuring David Draiman)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_V3o37uEAs&feature=fvwrel

Down With The Rudy's (featuring David Draiman)

Austin, TX

It was the Austin show on the Dream Theater tour, when all us Trivs decided to meet up with our friend David Draiman from Disturbed. David, at that time, lived around the Austin area - and having been buddies of ours since about 2005, we figured a good hang was in order.

The first time I met David was back on what I think was the Danzig show in Chicago… or maybe it was Roadrage with Machine Head and Chimaira… either way - he was at the show, and we all had a chance to meet. Having always been a fan of Disturbed (I saw 'em back on one of their first tours when they opened for Danzig and Six Feet Under at the House Of Blues Orlando, and every following time they ever played the central Florida area), I was pretty taken aback to find out that David was into Trivium. Back then and to this day, I consider David to be one of Metal's best singers and frontmen alike. His voice is iconic and instantly recognizable - with a range that spans some serious octaves. Pitch-perfect live-performances and a hell of a presence on stage are also a constant with Draiman. 

It was a quick chat that first night, but from then on, we'd occasionally run into each other over the years during one-off's and festivals and such. Years down the road, we were finally able to do a proper tour with Disturbed in Australia alongside As I Lay Dying, shortly before the release of In Waves. Shortly after that Aussie run, we found ourselves on another tour with Disturbed in the States on the Mayhem tour. 

On Mayhem, I was able to perform with Disturbed on the Dimebag Darrell anniversary - I even managed to… well… fuck my cameo up! The verses were intended to be traded off by David and Sully Erna (Godsmack), with the whole tour doing the chorus and back ups - well here comes ol' Keech (unaware of that arrangement) coming in 8 bars early on the second verse… "Run your mouthhhhh while I'm not arounddddd… it's easy to achieeeeevvveee!!" Then David politely taps and me says "Dude! You're early! And that's Sully's verse…" We both chuckle, I stop and hurry back to the side of the stage and await the chorus. Oops.

On the last date of the tour, we traded contacts to keep in touch - and in Austin we'd finally be able to share a meal (and the meal is always the best way to properly kick off a reunion). 

We show up, sit by the pool and share some drinks together - where we chat some top secret stuff (can't share yet, my friends), and then it was food time. We all pile up in David's car and head over to Rudy's, what he described as… a gas station BBQ restaurant… I was puzzled and stoked at the same time. When we show up, we see Rudy's is exactly that: a massive gas station, but only where the convenience quik-e-mart outta be, it's a big-ass BBQ restaurant. 

We essentially order every cut of animal there: sausage, ribs, pork, chicken, brisket, all the southern sides and greens and mayonnaise-salads you'd expect, and a half a loaf of white bread in the plastic. Now this stuff is good… damn good. Having been to Iron Works on a more recent visit to Austin during SXSW, I gotta say Rudy's definitely is better than Iron Works. Simple, down-home, unpretentious BBQ that's still juicy - not dry. 

As a great meal is for the first time between friends - I was super stoked that this little BBQ-joint in a gas-station would be bringing Metal-frontmen and band-mates together. We got chatting about others times we've had good meals around the globe, chatting the early days of touring from both ends… horror stories of pre-bus days; issues of little-to-no stage space as a first of 4 or 5 bands; all the good bits that only people who've shared that same insane heartache could possibly sympathize and laugh over with you. 

We rolled out of our bench in a meat-coma and headed back to Draiman's pad where we grabbed a car back to the venue for our show. All in all, it was the kind of day you don't ever forget about - sharing beers and BBQ and Metal and stories with friends. 

After the show, me and P walked far into the campus area by the gig to hit Vert's Belin-inspired Kebap. The place offers free beer, however it was non-alcoholic or Budweiser or Bud-Light… we passed. We both went for the Chicken Kebap - pretty darn good. It was interesting that at the restaurant, on their menus, they tell you how the Kebap or Kebab was created in Berlin. I always assumed Turkey - but nope: Berlin. Kebab shops in the U.K. and Europe are everywhere and typically exactly what you need to mop up all that booze in your belly after a late night pint or 20. Think of a Kebab as Europe's taco or burrito stand.