Mike Peters, the founder, vocalist, big-haired, big-hearted front-man of post-punk rock band The Alarm, was given a moving send-off at his funeral yesterday in his home village Dyserth (Diserth). A huge crowd of fans and admirers turned up to bid him farewell and watch the service on a big screen outside the ancient parish church of St Bridget & St Cwyfan. The mood was somehow both sad and celebratory, expressing a deep sense of loss alongside a joyful tribute to a life well lived.

He died in April having lived with chronic blood cancer for 30 years, repelling the disease’s various manifestations with courage and stoicism over and over again until finally succumbing to a rare form of aggressive lymphoma known as Richter’s syndrome. Through it all he kept recording and performing, making The Alarm one of the most enduringly successful Welsh bands ever, while his openness, humour, humility and intelligence charmed audiences around the world. One of his greatest achievements has to be the charity he and his wife Jules set up in 2006, the ‘Love Hope Strength Foundation’. Its mission to raise funds and encourage stem cell and bone marrow donors to aid cancer treatment has grown exponentially over the years, becoming the music world’s biggest cancer charity and making a real difference.

His other great commitment was to Wales. The proud Welshman was a stalwart supporter of Welsh independence, Welsh culture and the Welsh football team and a campaigner against the relentless attacks on Wales by imperialists, colonisers and bigots. Born in nearby Prestatyn and educated in Rhyl, he loved his native land, particularly the beautiful rolling uplands of the Clwydian Range (Bryniau Clwyd) stretching southwards from Dyserth to Llangollen. The funeral service included Plaid Cymru leader Rhun ap Iorwerth speaking about Mike’s activism and veteran campaigner Dafydd Iwan singing his potent rallying cry Yma o Hyd.

Truth be told, the first iteration of The Alarm from foundation in 1981 to 1991, when Peters left to pursue a solo career, was not really to my taste. But then that sort of insistent, anthemic stadium rock wasn’t aimed at an arty-farty musical know-it-all who deplored commercialism such as moi. Sure, I understood the appeal of the string of addictive hit singles and appreciated Mike’s adept vocals and interesting lyrics, but back then I most of all craved virtuoso musicianship and was well past the waving-lighters-in-the-air-in-a-muddy-field phase. However, as Peters matured and his range broadened and deepened, he got better and better, so by the time he reformed The Alarm in the 21st century, utilising a changing line-up of backing musicians, he was compulsory listening. Perhaps my tastes had broadened and deepened too. Today some of his later albums such as In the Poppyfields, Direct Action and Equals are among the most frequently played in my house.

The world is a poorer place without Mike Peters. His legacy is rich and multi-faceted. And maybe it is most tangible in the breathtaking panoramas from Moel Hiraddug above Dyserth that Mike knew so well from his wanderings in the hills he called home.