Brigada Flores Magon (https://www.facebook.com/Brigadafm) are a band from Paris who formed at the end of the 1990's and swiftly established themselves in Europe as the flagship group of the anti-fascist street punk movement. They mix political activism with punk rage and their first album in 15 years (released 2 years after they reformed) demonstrates that the fire still burns as brightly (“The very rage which fuelled us twenty years ago still burns more than ever. This very anger leads us to come back now to shout our rebellion and our solidarity among those who are not heard. It has been two decades, yet society keeps on sinking in the abyss of injustice dug by those in power. We refuse to see our freedom and our rights disappear hopelessly day by day.”).
The line up of the band is Mateo ( vocals ), Julien ( drums ), Goose ( ex-The Decline, guitar ), Arno Rudeboy ( ex-Bolchoi, guitar ) and Laurent ( ex-Ya Basta, bass ). The new album is titled Immortals and in an inspiring internationalist effort, they’ve got Machete Records (France) / Discos Machete (Mexico) / Rebel Time Records (Canada) / RASH GDL (Mexico) / PM Press (USA) / Dure Realite (Quebec) / RASH USA (USA) / SHARP Rio De Janeiro (Brazil) / Three Way Fight (USA) / Unite And Win (Brazil), all joining forces / combining resources to ensure that the album – its music and its message – gets spread far and wide. If you want gritty/anthemic punk rock with a message then check it out... https://brigadafloresmagon.bandcamp.com/album/immortels
This track is accompanied by a video featuring various antifascist demonstrations in Paris, it's a great example of how catchy this band are. It's called Hold The Line...
FRENCH LYRICS Face aux condés, en première ligne Devant tes juges, la tête haute Sous les matraques, les dents serrées La rage au ventre jusqu’à la nausée Saisis ta chance, vas-y balance À droite, une brèche, un homme qui tombe Dans la fumée, du sang par terre Faut pas fléchir, fais les rôtir Ne jamais baisser la tête Ne jamais desserrer les poings Ne jamais penser à la fin Ta détermination est leur défaite Comes the time, hold the line Dans la chaleur, la peau qui brûle Dans ta bouche, un goût de métal Les yeux qui piquent, un pas devant l’autre Des cris, des chants, la vague l’emporte Dans quelques mètres, la fin de leur monde De nouveau résonnent les chants de l’humanité, celle qui survit Ses cris résonnent, frères, elle rugit Ne jamais baisser la tête Ne jamais desserrer les poings Ne jamais penser à la fin Ta détermination est leur défaite Seize time hold the Line
Facing the cops, on the front line In front of your judges, your head held high Under the truncheons, clenched teeth Rage in your stomach until nausea Take your chance, swing it hard On the right, a breach, a man falling In the smoke, blood on the ground Don't flinch, roast 'em Never lower your head Never unclench your fists Never think about the end Your determination is their defeat Comes the time, hold the line In the heat, the skin that burns In your mouth, a taste of metal Itchy eyes, one step after another Cries, singings, the wave prevails In a few meters, the end of their world The singings resound again of humanity, the one who survives Her cries ring out, brothers, she roars Never lower your head Never unclench your fists Never think about the end Your determination is their defeat Comes the time, hold the line