Being a survivor from the 80s isn't necessarily a good thing these days. With many New Wave bands trying to relive their past glory through reunions and retrospective tours in venues vastly smaller than the huge concert halls they once filled a decade earlier, it has become almost a farce to make a comeback. Dead or Alive, A Flock of Seagulls and Missing Persons all have strategized breaking back into the collective consciousnesses of twentysomethings everywhere, but did little more than make a quick buck for more hairspray. One such 80s icon that had done his share of supporting Clairol is Mike Peters. Leading the anthemic rock arena with the likes of Big Country, The Call and pre-ego U2, Peters' patriotic fourpiece The Alarm kicked holes in 80s staples like American Bandstand, early MTV, and Friday Night Videos. Sporting wicked high hair, dour expressions, and the ultimate anthemic symbol - a poppy/gunshot wound as a logo, The Alarm was the working man's band who stood by their fellow man. The band whose battle cry was "Give me Love/ Give me Strength/ Give me something to live for."
The Alarm was a group whose modus operandi was equality for all men, which they felt was attainable with the right attitude and ideals. They wrote songs with a mission to change the world, such as "The Chant (Has Just Begun)", "Devolution Working Man's Blues", and "The Stand." They titled albums with such powerful names as Declaration, Strength, and Change. But unlike other semi-serious bands who incited the crowds but failed to lead the fight, The Alarm were true to themselves, to their cause, and their audience. So it seems fitting that their audience stayed true to them. "It's such a remarkable feeling, looking out into a crowd of old, familiar smiles and new, fresh faces, watching them sing my songs," says the ever-friendly, but much tamer-haired Peters. "There was a time when I thought I'd never see that again."
After their hugely successful trilogy of albums - Declaration, Strength, and Eye of the Hurricane - The Alarm's popularity began to wane. Continuing on for two more studio albums (_Change and Raw), they soon succumbed to the fate of almost all bands of the 80s - obscurity. "There was a time when it started becoming less fun. [Being in the band] was always very honest, but I stopped feeling comfortable with being in The Alarm," he confesses. "We all started to get egos. We all started feeling more superior than each other. I just felt like it was all falling apart around me."
This growing incompatibility started to fuel an inner tension, which finally exploded into the final show (which was unsuspected by his bandmates).
"We had just ended a song when I walked up to the microphone and said, 'Thanks for coming to our final show.' I didn't dare look at Eddie [MacDonald, bassist], Dave [Sharp, guitarist], or Nigel [a.k.a. Twist, drummer]. I knew they weren't expecting it at that exact moment, but I knew they knew it was coming. After I announced that, it was liberating."
In the years that followed, Peters never stopped playing Alarm songs, and in fact, continued an annual tradition of assembling a large group of diehard fans in Wales and playing for hours on end. And nearly half a decade later, Peters decided to share his private show with his larger audience by embarking on a solo tour titled "Unalarmed". He at once wants to invoke memories of his signature band, but he also wants to exorcise the demons that have plagued him. "I have always played old songs when I'd do the occasional show, but it's been a long time since I've been on the road this long."
One frightening event happened that nearly ended his career altogether. "Not too long ago, I was struck with symptoms that would normally signal cancer," he says somberly. "We all thought I had lymphoma, a horrible form of cancer [that attacks the immune system and spreads rapidly throughout the body]. But instead of sitting back and letting the cancer consume me, I went out on the road, determined to keep playing until I could play no more."
Fortunately, the biopsy results came back negative. "Everyone was so happy but I was very thankful. Sure, I was happy, but it had a major effect on me. It was almost another lease on life."
Now with the release of his new album, Feel Free (Select Records), which consists of all new material (he hasn't abandoned his old band's material; he's just moved past it), Peters has taken a step back from his defiant and impetuous youth. With song titles that range from the pondersome "What Is It For?" to the tension-filled "Broken Silence" to the rummaging-through-the-ashes "Regeneration", he no longer sees power emanating from "love, strength, and hope" alone. Instead, Peters starts to look further inward, pulling up understanding, forgiveness, and divinity from the depths within, realizing that coupled with these qualities, nothing could overpower him. He no longer is liberated through his actions and beliefs. Even from the implication of the title Feel Free, his shining focus on the inherent beauty in freedom does not come with question and doubt.
But that does not stop Peters from still being able to remain optimistic and hopeful. "The Unalarmed Tour really put my faith back in music," he beams. "I really loved hearing words which I once struggled to write being sung back to me. It's times like these when I feel like the luckiest man alive."
