Going out in a blaze of glory – saying goodbye to Mike Peters

John Geraint

“He lived as he sang — with passion, courage, and an unshakeable belief in the power of people to make a difference.”

Those were the words of his widow Jules, as we bade to Mike farewell today.

We had come – as the poets used to say – from across land and sea. We had come in our hundreds, our thousands, to honour a man whose courage, whose music, whose humanity had, for decades, done nothing less than nourish, inspire and thrill us.

Dyserth was his village, his cynefin. Mike Peters toured the world with The Alarm. But he always returned here, to his family and his home patch between the mountains and the north coast of the land he sang about with such passion. This was his place, the community which he and his wife Jules have helped reinvigorate in recent years with characteristic entrepreneurial style and verve.

And now the police had closed off the steep main street, and a huge screen had been erected outside the church of St Bridget and St Cwyfan, so that everyone could witness and share in a final farewell.

Michael Leslie Peters passed away on April 29th, aged 66, after living with blood cancer for more than 30 years.

He was awarded an MBE in 2019 for his music and in recognition of the work of Love, Hope, Strength, the cancer charity he co-founded with Jules.

Posting an open invitation to the funeral on social media, Jules said: “Whether you knew him as the incredible musician he was, called him a friend or neighbour, respected him for the support he gave for others affected by cancer, or just want to be part of what we think will be a memorable day in a special place, you are very welcome to join us.”

Jules described herself as overwhelmed by the response. And today those of us who’ve made the pilgrimage here have been overwhelmed too.

Decked out in leather, camo jackets, Alarm T-shirts and logos, with some even in more sombre garb, the crowds began gathering from early morning in an atmosphere as much rock festival as funeral.

Wayne Crichton and Natalie Jones, lifelong Alarm fans, had travelled from Treorchy: “Mike had a presence, he was a star,” they said, echoing the thoughts of so many who come from even further afield. “But wherever it was – on a mountain charity hike, after a huge concert, he always had time for people, for his fans. We’ve followed him all over. And there was no way we were not going to be here today.”

By mid-afternoon, when the service itself began, the ‘congregation’, the gathering was packed together many scores deep, filling the road outside the church, a wall of love, hope and strength to sustain Jules and their two sons, Dylan and Evan, as they accompanied the casket containing Mike’s ashes into the sanctuary.

Inside, opera singer Rhys Meirion, who himself is being treated for cancer and underwent surgery as recently as ten days ago, gave a powerful rendition of Robat Arwyn and Hywel Gwynfryn’s devotional anthem ‘Anfonaf Angel’.

Jules herself spoke with the inspiring and uplifting grace, composure and eloquence which has been hers throughout the last difficult year.

The couple’s younger son, Evan ap Michael brought us to our feet for a standing ovation with ‘Wonderwall’, a song father and son frequently played together.

Tributes and reflections followed from those involved with every aspect of Mike’s career and achievements, from Alarm band member Eddie Macdonald to Alex Colletti, creator of MTV Unplugged, and Love, Hope, Strength co-founder James Chippendale.

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Speaker after speaker – no less than seventeen of them in total, all of the highest calibre – bore witness to Mike’s incredible drive, energy and talent, and to the range of his influence which extended far beyond the realm of rock. This was a musical icon with an unwavering passion for life and a relentless pursuit of making the world a better place, one gig, one song, one note at a time.

If we were close to tears at times, there were also laughs aplenty, not least when Mike’s brother-in-law, Andrew Foley-Jones, gave us an hilarious account of their first meeting, when, as a 14 year-old, he answered the door to a rock star who’d come to court his sister.

Mike was lauded as a champion and hero of cancer research on a global basis, but we also heard of his humility, personal kindness and ability to forge deep friendships – and sustain them.

Mike’s long-time friend and collaborator Billy Duffy, of The Cult and Coloursound embellished ‘Fade In Fade Out Fade Away’ with soaring guitar riffs born of the brotherly bond between the two.

It was a reminder, too, of the wide esteem in which Mike was held by titans of the music industry. In his final days, he’d been comforted by support from the likes of Bono and the Edge of U2.

With contributions from the Stray Cats and Big Country this was a truly international occasion, streamed globally, the Alarm ‘s huge fanbase the world over joining those of us privileged to be inside the small church beside Dyserth’s famous waterfall.

But it was also a very Welsh affair.

Dafydd Iwan, visibly affected, sang his heart out with ‘Yma O Hyd’.

And Rhun ap Iorweth, leader of Plaid Cymru, thanked Mike for putting Wales, its culture and its language, front and centre throughout his career.

There are as many reasons to admire and love Mike Peters – the man and his music – as there were mourners gathered in Dyserth. For me, it was, above all, the way he embraced Wales in such a rounded and insightful way. He wrote – surely for the first time in widely-heard English-language rock music – about Deeside and the Rhondda. He sang Idris Davies’s ‘The Bells of Rhymney’ on tour with Bob Dylan, and ‘A New South Wales’ on BBC 1’s Wogan show with the Morriston Orpheus Choir.

In 1989’s ‘Change’, he fashioned an album that crystallised the tensions and changes that were sweeping Wales at that time. It warned us that, unless we changed course as a nation, our linguistic, political and geographic divides would tear us apart. And in an emotional appeal from the stage of a sold-out St David’s Hall, and in the confessional interview he recorded afterwards for my documentary, he appealed to all sides not to let that happen.

It was a brave and prophetic stance – and one we’d do well to heed right now.

“What I am trying to do,” he told me on camera back then, “is to unite the strands of people who are struggling to do good work in Wales.”

‘Good work’; ‘struggle’; ‘unity’. Today, in Dyserth, we were united, in a powerful combination of grief and celebration, by a man whose work – in song, and in what he made of his struggle with his illness – was of the very finest.

And, as Jules reminded us, with characteristic positivity and fortitude, “Mike is very much here in spirit. His voice may be still, but his message and his music will never fade.”