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The best kept secret in music


"STRATA Self-Titled Album Review (2004)"

"With undertones of bands like Breaking Benjamin and Memento, Strata leaves their own mark on the musical canvas with their intensity and ability to effectively use all of the space in a track. The pieces are bold and satisfying with layered vocals, strong drum work, interesting melodic guitar lines and steady bass. The lyrics are intelligent and thought provoking, painting vivid mental images and creating emotional whirlwinds to lose yourself in." - Meg Enos - Sonic Rampage

"STRATA Self-Titled Album Review (2004)"

"First time listeners will find Strata's mixture of post-grunge, modern alternative metal and emotional vocals familiar and easy to digest. However, none of these terms, which are often used to describe tired radio rock, fit entirely, as Strata create music that is more real and believable than others. While others fall short, this band has found one more twist to a style which many might have otherwise turned their heads to." - Dan Parscale - OMG


STRATA Presents: The End Of The World (2007)


1. Night Falls (The Weight Of It All)
2. Hot/Cold (Darling, Don't)
3. The Dotted Line...
4. Cocaine (We're All Going To Hell)
5. Coma Therapy
6. Poughkeepsie, NY
7. Stay Young
8. The Brothers
9. Love Is Life
10. The New National Anthem
11. Natoma Alley
12. Daylight In The City

STRATA Self-Titled (2004)


1. Piece By Piece
2. I Will Breathe Fire
3. The Panic
4. When It's All Burning
5. Just Like Silk
6. We've Changed
7. Never There
8. Today
9. Trustkilltrust
10. Waiting
11. You Are Eternal
12. In A Sweet Dream


Feeling a bit camera shy


A Glimpse Into The Inspiration Behind
Presents The End Of The World

In the middle of a summer, a lifetime before now, I spent a couple of weeks alone in New York City – it’s the only place I’d even been where anyone could be completely invisible; rich or poor, anonymous, famous… Everyone’s invisible. I was wandering around and getting lost on the trains in the middle of the night. I was broke enough to hate how much more expensive an awful bottle of merlot is on the East Coast than it is back home in Northern California. It was night after night and day after day of chain-smoking and lonely hangovers – too much TV News, eating away at my optimism… I was listening to Bright Eyes and Death Cab albums on repeat, practically wearing holes in my shoes walking up and down the length of that crazy island. Manhattan is about thirteen miles north to south and about two and a half miles east to west, roughly thirty-two and a half square miles. That’s nine-hundred-and-six-million-forty-eight-thousand square feet and I felt like I had stepped all over each and every one of them…

Most days I walked from when I woke up in the afternoon until I found my way back to my hotel in the early morning. I always had my headphones blaring my own soundtrack for the taxicabs and crowded sidewalk scenes. All of Central Park danced in perfect time to my playlist. A few times I found myself singing in the dank subway dungeons – but not performing – Not then… I was just mumbling under my breath, counting syllables on my fingers and humming in my head along with instrumental ideas the band had recorded for me to write to before I left home. They say the best way to go unnoticed in a crowd is to look everyone in the eye as you pass them by; The first thing people do when confronted with a stranger’s glance is look away. Whereas, if you don’t see them watching you, if they have time to study you, that’s exactly what they’ll do… Well I tried that trick a lot – so nobody saw me. Nobody saw my eyes – tired and stinging, cradled in nests of thick puffy bags of skin. I was using up all the ink in my pens and filling up notebooks and mini-tapes with everything that crossed my mind – most of which was useless – but when you’re documenting everything it’s only natural that most of what you write would be garbage, junk you amass and collect only to sift through when the dust settles…

I came to realize over that summer that the lyrics for the new album would have to be my best attempt at painting a picture of how it feels to live in America right now. Living in what mostly feels like the end of times. There’s such a thick, black hopelessness all over everything and it’ll get you down if you let it, so you have to keep moving. Our collective mood is like quicksand and whenever we feel ourselves starting to sink, we rely on any little bits of hope we can find to keep us going. For most of us the only thing left that brings us hope is love. There’s nothing wrong with an honest love song – why is it that only blonde, pop-tart sluts are singing love songs now? Has the whole world outgrown love? When did this happen? I don’t care, we write songs about real love because we believe in it, just as much as we believe in intolerance, violence, apathy, loss, corruption and all those terrible things. Each song on the album tells a different story and describes another part of our lives – From love to loss and everything in between… We live in a country at war with the world – This terror culture permeates everything in our lives. It’s not something we can avoid writing about anymore…

- Eric Victorino

STRATA PRESENTS THE END OF THE WORLD… was created by Eric Victorino (vocals), Ryan Hernandez (guitar), Hrag Chanchanian (bass) and Adrian Robison (drums) over the course of two long and difficult years in places like New York, England, and San Francisco. It was born on tour in dirty backwoods Texas clubs that look like run down, abandoned rodeos. It was written in the dark streets of places like Detroit, Miami, and Poughkeepsie, and at home in sunny Campbell, California.