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Back when I was 10, I discovered a feature in my community gazette about the Air Guitar World Championships, held annually every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. Mom and Dad had participated at the very first contest since 1996 – my mother distributed flyers, my dad managed the music. Ever since, national championships have been organized all across the world, with the titleholders gathering in Oulu every summer.

At the time, I inquired with my family if I could participate. They weren't sure at first; the event was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They believed it might be an daunting atmosphere, but I was set on it.

During childhood, I was always performing air guitar, miming along to the iconic rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. My parents were enthusiasts – my father loved Springsteen and U2. the band AC/DC was the original act I stumbled upon myself. the guitarist, the lead guitarist, was my idol.

Upon entering the spotlight, I performed my act to AC/DC’s Whole Lotta Rosie. The audience started chanting “Angus”, reminiscent of the album track, and it hit me: so this is to be a music icon. I made it to the finals, competing to a large audience in Oulu’s market square, and I was hooked. I earned the moniker “Little Angus” that day.

Later I paused. I was a judge one year, and kicked off the show another time, but I didn’t compete. I returned at 18, tested out several stage names, but fans continued using “Little Angus” so I accepted it fully and make “The Angus” as my stage name. I’ve made it to the final 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. The saying we live by is ‘Make air, not war’. Though it appears humorous, but it’s a real philosophy.

The contest is competitive but uplifting. Participants have one minute to give everything – high-powered performance, perfect mime, rock star charisma – on an nonexistent axe. Judges evaluate you on a point range from four to six. If scores are equal, there’s an “air-off” between the last two competitors: a song plays and you freestyle.

Getting ready is key. I selected an Avenged Sevenfold song for my act. I had it on repeat for a long time. I stretched constantly, trying to get my legs loose enough to bound, my hands fast enough to copy riffs and my upper body set for those bends and jumps. Once competition day arrived, I could internalize the track in my bones.

When the show concluded, the points were announced, and I had matched with the Japanese champion, Yuta “Sudo-chan” Sudo – it was occasion for an final showdown. We faced off to the Guns N’ Roses hit by the iconic band. Once the track began, I felt at ease because it was familiar to me, and above all I was so thrilled to play again. As they declared I’d triumphed, the venue went wild.

The moment is hazy. I think I lost consciousness from shock. Then the crowd started chanting the classic tune that well-known track and raised me up on to their shoulders. Justin Howard – also known as his stage name – a former champion and one of my closest friends, was holding me. I wept. I was the inaugural from Finland air guitar global winner in two and a half decades. The prior titleholder, the earlier victor, was in attendance as well. He gave me the warmest embrace and said it was “long overdue”.

Our global network is like a support system. Our motto is “Make air, not war”. It sounds silly, but it’s a true way of life. Competitors come from many countries, and each person is positive and uplifting. As you prepare to compete, each contestant offers an embrace. Then for a brief period you’re allowed to be uninhibited, silly, the top performer in the world.

Additionally, I am a percussionist and guitarist in a musical act with my family member called the band name, inspired by the sports figure, as we’re inspired by Britpop and new wave. I’ve been working in bars for a few years now, and I direct mini movies and song visuals. The victory hasn’t affected my daily activities significantly but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I wish it results in more creative work. My hometown will be a designated cultural center soon, so there are promising opportunities.

At present, I’m just thankful: for the group, for the chance to perform, and for that young child who read an article and thought, “That's for me.”