brief encounters #13: mike peters’s legacy will go marching on
Mike Peters at the June 2023 Gathering at the Gramercy Theatre in New York City (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
“Don’t forget what I told you now / When the question keeps on coming / And it’s ‘How much more can you take’ / When they’ve ripped your clothes to pieces / ‘Shouldn’t you be gone by now?’ / But you keep on / Going out in a blaze of glory / My heart is open wide / You can take anything that you want from me / But you cannot take my soul / Going out in a blaze of glory / My hands are held up high / I’m learning how to hit back / I'm learning how to fight.” —the Alarm, “Blaze of Glory,” 1984
I first saw the Welsh rock and roll band the Alarm on April 16, 1984, at the Tower Theater in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, opening for the Pretenders. As much as I loved Chrissie Hynde’s group, I was just as interested in seeing the Alarm, having fallen head over heels for their debut album, Declaration, in which singer and guitarist Mike Peters, lead guitarist Dave Sharp, bassist Eddie MacDonald, and drummer Nigel Twist introduced such punk-infused power-pop anthems as “Marching On,” “Sixty Eight Guns,” “Blaze of Glory,” and “Howling Wind,” the songs as beautifully bombastic as their big hair and youthful determination to change the world.
After the show, I saw Peters outside the venue and thanked him for a rousing set that was still rattling around in my head. Four years older than me, he was kind and courteous, surprised that anyone wanted to meet him when the Pretenders were the main attraction. I also saw the band on November 2, 1985, at Key Largo, a small club on Sunrise Highway in West Islip, and the next year at the Ritz in New York City.
I found some old ticket stubs but could not locate my Alarm bandanna with the Poppy logo on it (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
During those early years, I wore out the grooves on their LPs, listening to Declaration (1984), Strength (1985), Eye of the Hurricane (1987), and Change (1989) over and over again on my Garrard belt-drive turntable.
For the next three decades, I kept track of what the group was doing but didn’t listen to them nearly as much, although I was glad they were still out there trying to save the planet. Then the pandemic hit, and I happened upon “The Big Night In,” a series of online episodes hosted by Mike and his wife and bandmate, Jules Jones Peters, that consisted of live music by the Alarm and special guests, archival videos, and conversations. It proved a lifeline during lockdown and continued into 2023.
But soon the cancer that Mike had been battling for thirty years, since he was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma on October 25, 1995, at the age of thirty-six, then with chronic lymphocytic leukemia in 2005, came back in September 2022. On September 25, Peters informed fans, “I am writing today to let you all know that my leukaemia (CLL) has relapsed and I have been admitted to the North Wales Cancer Centre for immediate treatment. I have already started on a brand new chemotherapy regime and so I wanted you to know personally that my life living with cancer is about to change for the foreseeable future. My immediate aim is to get fit and well for The Gathering in January 2023.”
Since 1992, the Alarm has presented The Gathering, a multiday event of music and community, at several locations.
He continued, “Since being diagnosed with pneumonia (after the last British tour), the post-recovery period provided far greater challenges for me than I could ever have envisaged (although somehow I managed to find the strength to record the backing tracks for a new Alarm album. I’ve even got my guitar with me on the ward just in case inspiration strikes!).”
Mike and Jules documented every step of the medical treatments through photographs, videos, and long posts about exactly what was happening, even as Mike kept performing live, either solo or with the Alarm (James Stevenson on guitar and bass, Mark Taylor on keyboards and guitar, Steve “Smiley” Barnard on drums, and Jules on keyboards) depending on his health; recorded songs for a new album; and worked on what was scheduled to be a three-part autobiography: Love (1959–1991), Hope (1991–2005), and Strength (2005–), named for the Love Hope Strength Foundation he started with Jules and their friend James Chippendale in 2006. The organization’s mission is to “help save and change lives one concert, one step, one helping hand at a time through partnering with cancer care specialists across the globe and offering support when families affected by cancer need it most.” Love (1959–1991) is available now; Hope (1991–2005) will be released this fall.
“I’m free / I’m really free / So free / Totally free / I’m free / I’m not afraid of life / Free / I’m not afraid to live / I’m really free / Totally free.” —the Alarm, “Totally Free,” 2025
The 2023 Gathering took place as scheduled in North Wales, but the US edition had to be postponed from February until June 23–24. I was there at the Gramercy on day two for an extraordinary, unforgettable show that lasted some four hours plus, comprising nearly fifty songs and an advance screening of the BBC documentary Rewind: 60 Years of Welsh Pop — Mike Peters and the Alarm. (You can see my photos and videos here.) The evening began with a set of covers for two-day pass holders, including Steve Earle’s “Copperhead Road,” Willie Nile’s “One Guitar,” Prince’s “The Cross,” and Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” after which Peters came down and mingled with the audience, signing autographs and posing for pictures. I thanked him for all the amazing music and expressed to him how important he and Jules were for me during the lockdown; I also told him about having met him after the Philly show all those years ago.
Over the course of the night, with and without the band, Peters, wearing jeans, camo jacket, and sneakers, his long blond hair falling past his shoulders, displayed a seemingly endless stream of energy, running between four front microphones as he sang and played his military-green acoustic guitar emblazoned with the words “The Vigilante” above the Alarm star logo, the five points breaking through a circle. The setlist featured such Alarm classics as “Sixty Eight Guns,” “Rain in the Summertime,” “Spirit of ’76,” “Marching On,” and “Blaze of Glory” in addition to such relatively newer tunes as “Beautiful,” “In the Poppy Fields,” “Next,” “Transition,” and “Two Rivers.”
Peters and the band played sparingly over the next year and a half, a handful of mostly short festival sets, as Jules posted about Mike’s health and remarkable positivity nearly every day. In April 2024, Mike was diagnosed with a more aggressive form of CLL, Richter’s syndrome, and in October, his hair shaved into a tufty mohawk, he started the brutal chimeric antigen receptor T-cell therapy (CAR-T) at the Christie NHS Foundation Trust in Manchester, a clinical trial that involves genetically modified T-cells. He kept writing and recording, finishing the album Transformation, which features such songs as “New Life,” “To Be Alive,” and “Chimera,” the last one inspired by his CAR-T treatment.
“Sci-fi fixes therapy / Two bloods / Collide inside of me / They call me the Chimera / Sci-fi fixes therapy / Programmed in the laboratory / Killing me to stay alive / Killing me to stay alive, stay alive, stay alive, stay alive.” —the Alarm, “Chimera,” 2025
Jules and Mike show off his brand-new Grande Launch guitar (photo courtesy Jules Jones Peters)
On April 1, Jules posted a photo of her and Mike with his new guitar, a Grande Launch. She wrote, “In the last year which of course has been extremely challenging (and continues to be so) but at every juncture, music has been the perfect medicine to signpost us to the next life junction. Since last year’s lymphoma diagnosis we have performed an incredible 40 shows and recorded a brand new album which was launched initially on vinyl last weekend . . . 💿 A year ago I would never have thought that was possible but instead, under MLP’s steady guidance, together as a team we achieved the unachieveable and most importantly have lived a wonderful life over the last 12 months. The dawn of this year of course has been more challenging as we navigated CAR-T and now EPCOR but with new challenges arrive new determinations. . . . Behind the scenes Michael Peters is busier than ever, prepping for the worldwide release of his new album TRANSFORMATION. He has always been at the heart of all the releases and touring plan, a true punk, imagining up the impossible and activating the idea, running with it far and wide, inspiring us all to keep up with him and run alongside in his pursuit of music and art 💿 That’s why I fell in love with him all those years ago. He’s an Alpha Male and he makes life exciting! . . . So as we approach a year of living life with lymphoma and leukaemia (WTF!😘✌️) we are still dreaming, still believing and still living the best life. We have no regrets about our cancer diagnoses. It’s made us who we are 💪 Grateful thanks to you all for supporting us from near and far, keeping us safe and helping to bear the load of this beautiful life ❤️”
On April 16, Jules celebrated her fifty-eighth birthday. She declared, “My birthday wish is for more birthdays with Michael Peters! 🙏”
On April 25, Mike sent a personal message about the upcoming publication of Hope (1991–2005), explaining, “Luckily for me, I was able to stay alive long enough through 2024 to complete [it.]”
The next post, on April 29, was the announcement that Michael Peters had passed away at the age of sixty-six, leaving behind Jules and their two sons, Dylan and Evan.
I stared at the screen for a long time, unable to fully process the news. Mike and Jules’s spirit made it seem like he would never die, that he was an unstoppable force filled with love, hope, and strength that would see him through.
I listened to songs. I watched videos. I emailed the band’s publicist “for life,” as Mike called him, the extraordinary Rey Roldan of Reybee, sending him my condolences; Rey wrote back, “Jules is such a special person and Mike was so lucky to have her and vice versa. The two of them were a force and even if she wasn’t on the Zoom when he and I talked a few times a week, he always mentioned her as if she was in the room with him. Their bond was supernatural and her grief must be overwhelming.”
On his Facebook page, Rey described his long relationship with the Alarm, from 1980s superfan to working with Peters, quickly going from “friend/client” to “great friends.” He wrote, “I sent an email to Mike Peters the other day, asking for a quote for a press release that will eventually get written . . . but without a quote.” He detailed some of his time with Mike, then concluded, “That was the last email I had sent to him . . . asking for quotes to write a press release about his future plans. He never replied and, in a way, there’s no closure there. It’ll always be an open-ended query, asking for info that will never come. But, in another way, it’s comforting. It’s not as if the door is closed. It’s open . . . wide open. Mike hasn’t passed on. He’s still present around me . . . I’ll get his answers to my questions one day . . . and his response will be pure Mike Peters . . . genuine and honest.”
Mike Peters with his great friend, publicist and superfan Rey Roldan (photo courtesy Rey Roldan)
I was surprised to see how many of my friends were Alarm stalwarts, posting on various social media pages how much the loss was affecting them. Film critic Edward Douglas, who attended the Gramercy Gathering show with me, wrote on his Weekend Warrior Substack, “Today has been a very devastating day for me, and though I was worried that it might be coming, I kept hoping and praying that the inevitable would be delayed, and that Mike Peters, frontman and primary creative entity behind one of my all-time favorite bands, the Alarm, would be able to win his decades-long fight against cancer. . . . Mike’s death has hit me hard. Although he wasn’t as known or as famous as Bowie or Prince, and he had been fighting cancer for so long, it was to be expected, but still, learning that cancer finally won in its battle against Mike — and mind you, I had my own tough fight with leukemia, so I know what’s involved — has really crushed me. . . . He wasn’t just a great musician, songwriter, or performer, but he was what I consider the pinnacle for a human being — A MENSCH. I’m devastated that I’ll never get to tell him this in person.” Ed included information about getting on the DNA registry and joining such nonprofits as NMDP, a leader in cell therapy — in addition to a photo of him and Mike.
A good high school friend, Gena Rositano, posted a video of her son, Grey Wilson, playing a song using Peters’s white acoustic guitar as Mike and Jules watched and smiled; Gena wrote that she was “devastated and stunned” and thanked Mike “for being such a source of light and goodness in this world and helping to teach Grey the measure of a man.”
A few days after Peters died, Grey posted on Instagram a photo of him playing with Peters. “I’m still heartbroken about Mike’s passing,” he wrote. “Not only was he a role model to me, he was one of my closest friends. He was an extraordinary musician, a kind soul, he made a big difference, and I’ve never seen anyone fight cancer the way he did. He truly was a hero and I’m so happy to have jammed with him.” On his radio show on WHPC, Grey added, “Mike was the most inspirational person I’ve ever met.”
Brandon Flowers of the Killers narrated a video tribute. The UK Parliament and House of Commons honored him. The Football Association of Wales sang his praises.
Meanwhile, Jules Jones Peters is sharing her grief and her love, posting photos, reminiscing about walking along the beach with Mike, and looking toward the future. “This is what he wants for us all. To be happy. To not be sad. To live our life fully each day. It’s going to be difficult I know as there is so much love,” she wrote on April 30. On May 3, she admitted, “I slept fitfully for the first time. Usually I sleep well but understandably as the days tick by, I found today unmeasurably hard. . . . Tonight I can feel a good sleep coming along 💤🛏️ Penblwydd Hapus Dylan ap Michael . . . ☀️ Michael Peters was heavy on my heart tonight as he always will be forever. I hope he’s looking down on us enjoying the party🎈”
Nobody expected the earthbound party to end. Tickets have long sold out for Transformation Weekends with Mike in June at the Red in Wales— the coffee shop and music venue owned by Jules — and the 2026 Gathering in Cardiff.
I’ve learned a lot about Mike Peters, Jules Jones Peters, and the Alarm this past week, and it all helps soften the blow of losing the indefatigable Welsh Mensch.
Mike Peters rocks the Gramercy in Manhattan while fighting cancer (photo by twi-ny/mdr)
In December 2018, Mike was awarded an MBE for his charitable work. In accepting the recognition, he explained, in true fashion, “MBE must stand for a multitude of brilliant efforts, because that’s what lies behind everything that I’ve achieved. Not my own efforts, but other people’s.”
It’s now up to all of us to keep those efforts marching on.
“We’ll go marching on / Hear our sound, hear our voice / We're growing stronger / And we'll go marching on / We’re not alone and we’re keeping on, we’re marching on . . . / ‘Cause our hearts must have the courage / To keep on marching on.” —the Alarm, “Marching On,” 1984
[You can follow Mark Rifkin and This Week in New York every day here.]