It was five years ago, when the rest of the nation was consecrating its independence in a Kuala Lumpur tavern that a gaunt performer in a seemingly out-of-place techni-colour shirt, a flowing mane and a loud floral guitar, agonised over what could have been his last appearance in a room that was humming hard while the insatiable crowd called out for more.
At the height of his popularity, singer, songwriter and all-round musician Alex Peters did something his growing fans never quite understood. Sacrificing a promising career which he had cultivated for more than a decade, the intense and often radical musician went on to pursue a calling that took him to places he wasn’t quite prepared for.
And like the sacrificial ram that appeared out of nowhere in the biblical account of Abraham and his son Isaac, Peters discovered that the will to relinquish what he loved doing most was probably the hardest thing he ever had to do.
Referring to his hiatus as his “wilderness period”, Peter’s encounter with a seemingly harmless ecclesiastical organisation or church that later turned out to be a “cult movement,” left him, not bitter, but wiser to the wiles of the human condition.
“The destructive teachings of the existence of modern-day prophets and apostles have led believers astray,” he says, “and they were manipulated and controlled by carnal, self-seeking leaders.”
The search for truth, he found out, sometimes leads to a forked road with no signs or directions. But he also realised that at times making the wrong turn was acceptable, even necessary, to arm him for what was to come.
A couple of weeks ago, as if in an attempt to venerate at the very altar he renounced years ago, Peters made a surprise comeback. Only, this time he was bigger, louder and better than he ever was.
Billed as “Back to Roots, Rock, Reggae”, Peters packed the house to standing-room only. While most of his faithful fans came seeking gratification, some came only to see if he still had it in him, if he could still play the crowd like he used to. By the end of the three-hour performance, however, the assembly at Big Willy’s in Bangsar, Kuala Lumpur, was swaying on chairs to the rhythm of his concluding signature tune, Sultans of Swing. Any doubt about his staying power was put to rest that day.
Peters’ tenacity is partly ascribed to his disposition that remains an enigma, even to those who know him well. He has a way of somehow sneaking up on you. In the 1970s, he started out, like all aspiring musicians of the time, as a purveyor of, believe it or not, disco music, playing lead guitar with a six-piece disco-jazz rock outfit called the Stratosphere at the Beer Garden in Ampang. The group was lead by his older brother, bass guitarist Matthews Peters who left a year later to form The Explorers.
In the 1980s the band broke up and Peters founded a trio playing country music at Renee’s pub in Petaling Jaya.
Soon after the other members of the band left saying they could not cope with what came to be known as “schedule of reinforcement”, a term that has come to define the often long and arduous practice sessions that were essential for the performance that Peters envisioned.
Left with only a guitar and a drum machine, Peters endured on his own and when he took on gigs at Underground, Your Place and Moonraker pubs in Kuala Lumpur, he had the crowds lapping up every note he was dishing out.
And then it happened, Peters remembers it well. It was November 15, 1984. During a regular pub performance he felt his voice fade until he could only muster a week grunt. The shock of not being able to sing had a profound effect on the musician who depended largely on his voice to make a living. The doctors then confirmed his worse fear. Laryngitis forced him to lay off music for almost two years.
In all that time, Peters hone his skills for an eventual comeback, experimenting with a four-track recorder that allowed him to be a virtual one-man band. Man and machine finally came together at a German watering-hole called Trefpunkt, where he established a “big” sound that he continues to propagate to this day. Riding high on his new sound, Peters soon braved the Top of the Pubs event emerging the winner with his frenzied rendition of Herbie Hancock’s Rockit.
At Trefpunkt in 1987, Peters developed a strong following, and his fans soon gave a new meaning to the term bar-hopping. After three years there, Peters took a year off, only to come back stronger than ever at the Centrepoint pub in Damansara.
Together with a childhood friend, he founded “Flower Power and the Screaming Sixties”, belting out the Mersey beat from the early Beatles, the Turtles, Tommy James and the Shondels, Gerry and the Peacemakers through to the psychedelic rock of Jimi Hendrix, Santana, Steppenwolf and Blood, Sweat and Tears, establishing a trend that continues to infiltrate the local pub scene today.
For those who know Peters, he can be a maniacally demanding band leader, the kind of guy who would bring together talented instrumentalist and then push them to play even better than they know how. Along the way, many aspiring musicians folded under the rigorous of lengthy and demanding practice sessions, but those who endured will testify that the price was worth paying.
Peters is not just an astute musician and clever arranger. He never fails to shock his peers who can’t help see the seemingly endless stream of convoluted musical ideas rattling around in his nonstop brain.
Not willing to compromise on his artistic vision or his standards of excellence, Peters broke all convention to produce a demo album that is as commercial as Bartok or Frank Zappa.
In the grand tradition of minimalism, Peters believes that elegance can arise out of austerity and in certain instances less can be more.
The cover of his unfinished solo album, now more than five years in the making, is stark in its realism, depicting a pencil sketch of the crown of thorns on a mesmeric Christ. Explaining his idea of what constitutes art, Peters speaks of reducing a complex concept, such as God, to essentials, making it accessible to a wider audience.
The demo album, however, is anything but simplistic. While the lyrics and the message are unmistakenly obvious, the composition and the musical skill employed to bring it to fruition are complex and unpredictable but never cynical like the classic gospel rock operas Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell. His ideas don’t quite fit with the pre-programmed mainstream of pop music. Elements of all kinds of music, including contemporary, classical, folk, be-bop, avant-garde, heavy metal, and practically every other recognisable form, are employed with equal aplomb and what comes out is the peculiar brand of what he calls “Resurrection Metal”, a musical madness that is quintessentially Peters.
An acquired taste, the Day the King Died is Peters’ musical rite of passage, a sojourn he embarked on five years ago to certify his true calling. Until today, Peters is still in the process of resolving the differences between his music and the pursuit of what he calls truth.
The influences of those who persevered against all odds – the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix and as of 10 years ago, Steve Vai – are evident in his demo album. Like Beatle Paul McCartney, Peters’ struggle for perfection comes across clearly. Traces of his other favourite Beatle, John Lennon’s rock and roll influence is unmistakable.
Yet others like Walt Disney and the makers of the cartoon family Simpsons have a very profound effect on him. His fascination with guitarist Steve Vai is a major driving force in his approach to music. Vai’s ability to focus, he says and his abstract spirituality and sagacity is an explicit factor in Peters’ wish to have the guitar great produce his debut album.
On good days, Peters spends most of his time perfecting his recording techniques. On other days, he listens to hard orchestrated metal music which he swears has a calming effect on him.
His pet peeve, he says, is intolerance, especially neighbours who frequently complain about the loud music. “It hampers my experiments”.
If there was one thing that could make his life better what would it be?
“A grueling session in the recording studio with Steve Vai”.
