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SPECIAL UNABRIDGED VERSION Wales favorite sons The Alarm disbanded under strained terms in June of 1991, after ten years of...

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SPECIAL UNABRIDGED VERSION

Wales favorite sons The Alarm disbanded under strained terms in June of 1991, after ten years of important, honest, working man’s rock ‘n’ roll, spread well beyond the United Kingdom. The path left behind them widens and narrows and twists and turns with success and hardship, and is covered with statistics and sloganeering eulogies: “14 Top 50 singles,” “seven successful albums,” “packed out venues on both sides of the Atlantic,” “the most successful rock group to ever come from Wales,” not to mention opening for U2 on the notorious War tour, appearing on the UK’s Top of the Pops, and performing “the very first global satellite concert” in front of a live audience of 26,000 at UCLA — which was screened live around the world by MTV.

But while The Alarm’s statistical history is impressive and noteworthy, it is another facet of their story that takes them from trivia question to legend — The Alarm’s innate understanding of rock ‘n’ roll as personal, powerful, and of the soul. Every concurrent album reflects the maturity and lessons gained during the time in between, and their song-writing progression manifests a guidebook of developing the craft for hook, penchant for anthem, and claim to grit.

Frontman Mike Peters has been involved in solo and group projects (Coloursound) over the last decade, but he recently decided to remind us of The Alarm’s rock significance by reintroducing the band under a new moniker (The Alarm 2000) and taking their songs back out on the road, where they have not been heard since ‘91. Saddled with an ambitious nine-disc box set called The Alarm 2000 Collection (featuring a special acoustic bonus “dedication” CD, whereby Peters personally records and dedicates an Alarm song of choice), a new backing band, and an old, familiar smile — Peters stopped in Austin, Texas a few months ago for a truly rousing set of Alarm classics at the Atomic Cafe.

It was the first time I ever saw Peters perform live, and, while I expected some proficient, seasoned euro-rock, I did not expect the publicly intimate and universal-rock experience it quickly became. Peters did not just sing his songs. He lived them in front of us — with us. Like a sanguine Bob Dylan, or an extroverted Neil Young, Peters showed us why many consider today’s ‘rock’ dead. For his rock was not one of image or fashion or posture — it was a rock of spirit and genuine attitude, founded on a dynamic and presence of integrity and meaningful simplicity. Songs like “Spirit of ‘76” and “Rain in the Summertime” and “Declare Yourself an Unsafe Building” were stripped-down to their rawest elements, and incited sing-a-longs as fervent and rich as one would find in a small Welsh pub. The sense of mutual love and celebration that passed between stage and floor was overwhelming. It was that night that I realized the true importance of the rock ‘n’ roll tradition. It was that night that I learned to respect the folk music of our post-modern world.

After The Alarm 2000 finished their many encores and dedications, Peters spent a long time ‘catching up’ with fans, and Doug Van Pelt and I waited to interview him. After his manager finally wrestled him away from his long-time-loyals, Peters walked up to us and smiled warmly, almost shyly. The club’s stereo played loudly around us, and Doug squeezed the microphone closely between Peters and himself to discuss The Alarm, U2, God, and his heart.

“Okay, I understand that a few years ago you started wearing camouflage and fatigues as kind of an outward expression of what your attitude was on the inside in a battle with cancer,” Doug opened. “And I know that sometimes when time passes and we have a few years, sometimes our perspective changes a little bit. So why don’t you tell me about that experience and any sort of different or new perspective you have now.”

“Um, well, I wore the fatigues as...well, really what I was wearing was green,” Peters replied, “‘cause I was told that was the healing color for me, and I wore that until I was healed ... I wore it day and night, and slept in it, and played concerts in it – and it got very smelly – uh, until I was given the all clear ... I even wore a green ring which I still wear to this day.”

“Is that jade?”

“Yeah, it is. Uh, so...it just sped up my life really, and I always thought I lived for the moment anyway, but uh ... it made me realize that I was sort of shutting certain things out that I didn’t need to shut out, and it just made me think. I say ‘yes’ to everything now, and I worry about the consequences later, and I try to fit everything in. I probably take on too much now, as a person, but it’s not often that you get a second chance at life, so I’m making the most of it.”

“That’s great. I want to compliment you on your art and your music. I think that you are very inspiring and a real credit to an artist who seems to seek excellence in his art, and you’ve done a great job I think – creating art that really says something. I’ve got like twenty-five questions, but I want to cut to the chase in case this is cut short.”

“Right on.”

“Well, uh, what do you think of Jesus Christ?”

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