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When I was just 10, I read about a feature in my community gazette about the World Air Guitar Competition, held annually every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. My family had helped out at the pioneering contest starting from 1996 – my mum handed out flyers, my father sorted the music. Ever since, national championships have been organized globally, with the titleholders gathering in Oulu every summer.

Initially, I requested permission if I could compete. At first they were hesitant; the show was in a bar, and there would be a lot of adults. They believed it might be an daunting atmosphere, but I was determined.

In my youth, I was always miming air guitar, pretending to play to the biggest rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. Mom and Dad were enthusiasts – dad loved The Boss and the Irish rock band. AC/DC was the original act I stumbled upon myself. the lead guitarist, the lead guitarist, was my idol.

Upon entering the spotlight, I performed my act to AC/DC’s that classic track. The crowd started chanting “Angus”, just like the album track, and it struck me: so this is to be a guitar hero. I made it to the finals, performing to a large audience in the public plaza, and I was addicted. I earned the moniker “Little Angus” that day.

Then I took a break. I was a judge one year, and started the show another time, but I stayed out of the contest. I returned at 18, tried a few different stage names, but people kept calling me “Little Angus” so I embraced it and adopt “The Angus” as my performance alias. I’ve qualified for the last round annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I came second, so I was set to win this year.

The air guitar community is like a close-knit group. Our guiding principle is ‘Play air guitar, avoid battles’. It sounds silly, but it’s a true ethos.

The competition itself is competitive but uplifting. Contestants have one minute to deliver maximum effort – dynamic presence, perfect mime, performance charm – on an invisible guitar. Judges rate you on a grading system from a specific numeric range. If scores are equal, there’s an “tiebreaker” between the final two contestants: a tune begins and you create on the spot.

Training is crucial. I chose an a metal group song for my routine. I had it on repeat for a long time. I stretched constantly, trying to get my legs flexible enough to bound, my hands quick enough to copy riffs and my back ready for those gestures and hops. Once the big day arrived, I could sense the music in my bones.

After everyone had performed, the points were announced, and I had tied with the winner from Japan, Yuta “Sudo-chan” Sudo – it was time for an tiebreaker. We competed directly to the Guns N’ Roses hit by the iconic band. When I heard the song, I felt relieved because it was a tune I recognized, and more than anything I was so excited to play again. Once the results were read I’d triumphed, the square exploded.

The moment is hazy. I think I lost consciousness from the excitement. Then everyone started performing the classic tune that well-known track and lifted me on to their shoulders. One of the greats – AKA his stage name – a former champion and one of my dear companions, was hugging me. I shed tears. I was Finland’s first air guitar world champion in a quarter-century. The previous Finnish champion, the former champion, was in attendance as well. He gave me the most heartfelt squeeze and said it was “about damn time”.

The air guitar community is like a close-knit group. Our guiding saying is “Create music, not conflict”. It may seem humorous, but it’s a true way of life. Participants come from many countries, and each person is helpful and motivating. As you prepare to compete, each contestant shows support. Then for 60 seconds you’re allowed to be yourself, playful, the biggest rock star in the world.

Additionally, I am a beat keeper and guitarist in a musical act with my brother called the group title, inspired by the football manager, as we’re fans of UK rock and post-punk. I’ve been bartending for a few years now, and I direct mini movies and music videos. The victory hasn’t changed my day-to-day life significantly but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I aspire it leads to more innovative opportunities. The city will be a cultural hub next year, so there are great prospects.

At present, I’m just grateful: for the network, for the chance to perform, and for that young child who picked up a newspaper and thought, “I want to do that.”