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Back when I was 10, I read about a feature in my hometown newspaper about the Global Air Guitar Contest, that happens every year in my hometown of Oulu, Finland. Mom and Dad had participated at the inaugural contest starting from 1996 – mom handed out flyers, my dad managed the music. Since then, national championships have been staged globally, with the champions converging in Oulu annually.

Back then, I asked my parents if I could participate. At first they were hesitant; the show was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They thought it might be an intimidating atmosphere, but I was determined.

In my youth, I was always miming air guitar, miming along to the iconic rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. My parents were enthusiasts – my father loved The Boss and the Irish rock band. the Australian rockers was the original act I discovered on my own. the guitarist, the frontman guitarist, was my idol.

When I stepped on stage, I did my routine to AC/DC’s the song Whole Lotta Rosie. The audience started yelling “Angus”, reminiscent of the album track, and it hit me: this must be to be a music icon. I reached the championship, playing to a large audience in the town square, and I was hooked. I was dubbed “Little Angus” that day.

Later I paused. I was a referee one year, and started the show another time, but I stayed out of the contest. I came back at 18, tried a few different stage names, but everyone still referred to me as “Little Angus” so I embraced it and adopt “The Angus” as my stage name. I’ve qualified for the last round annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I placed second, so I was resolved to win this year.

The air guitar community is like a family. Our motto is ‘Make air, not war’. Though it appears humorous, but it’s a genuine belief.

The competition itself is intense but joyful. Competitors have 60 seconds to give everything – dynamic presence, precise mimicry, rock star charisma – on an nonexistent axe. Adjudicators score you on a scale from a specific numeric range. When it's a draw, there’s an “tiebreaker” between the final two contestants: a track is selected and you create on the spot.

Getting ready is key. I chose an the band Avenged Sevenfold song for my performance. I had it on repeat for weeks. I stretched constantly, trying to get my limbs prepared enough to bound, my fingers fast enough to imitate guitar parts and my spine set for those bends and jumps. Once the event arrived, I could sense the music in my soul.

After everyone had performed, the points were announced, and I had drawn with the winner from Japan, a competitor known as Sudo-chan – it was occasion for an air-off. We went head-to-head to Sweet Child o’ Mine by the rock group. When I heard the song, I felt comforted because it was a tune I recognized, and primarily I was so excited to have another go. As they declared I’d emerged victorious, the area erupted.

The moment is hazy. I think I zoned out from surprise. Then the crowd started singing Neil Young’s that well-known track and raised me up on to their shoulders. One of the greats – alias his performer title – a previous titleholder and one of my best pals, was holding me. I shed tears. I was the inaugural from Finland air guitar world champion in a quarter-century. The previous Finnish champion, the former champion, was there, too. He gave me the biggest hug and said it was “long overdue”.

The air guitar community is like a support system. The phrase we live by is “Focus on fun, not fighting”. It sounds silly, but it’s a genuine belief. Competitors come from globally, and all involved is supportive and encouraging. Prior to performing, each contestant offers an embrace. Then for one minute you’re free to be uninhibited, playful, the ultimate music icon in the world.

Besides that, I'm a drummer and string player in a group with my brother called the group title, referencing Gareth Southgate, as we’re fans of Britpop and new wave. I’ve been working in bars for a couple of years, and I produce short films and song visuals. The title hasn’t changed my day-to-day life too much but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I wish it results in more creative work. My hometown will be a cultural hub next year, so there are exciting things ahead.

Currently, I’m just grateful: for the community, for the ability to compete, and for that young child who found a story and thought, “I'd love to try that.”