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At the age of 10, I came across a feature in my community gazette about the Global Air Guitar Contest, held annually every year in my birthplace of Oulu, Finland. Mom and Dad had volunteered at the pioneering contest starting from 1996 – my mother gave out flyers, my father managed the music. From that point, country-level contests have been organized all across the world, with the titleholders converging in Oulu annually.

Back then, I requested permission if I could compete. They weren't sure at first; the show was in a bar, and there would be many grown-ups. They thought it might be an overwhelming atmosphere, but I was determined.

In my youth, I was always performing air guitar, acting out to the iconic rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. My parents were enthusiasts – my father loved Springsteen and the Irish rock band. AC/DC was the initial group I found independently. the lead guitarist, the lead guitarist, was my idol.

As I took the stage, I performed my act to the band's that classic track. The crowd started chanting “Angus”, similar to the concert version, and it dawned on me: this must be to be a music icon. I advanced to the last round, competing to crowds in the public plaza, and I was addicted. I got the nickname “Little Angus” that day.

Later I paused. I was a judge one year, and opened for the show another time, but I didn't participate. I returned at 18, tried a few different stage names, but people kept calling me “Little Angus” so I decided to own it and choose “The Angus” as my artist name. I’ve reached the finals every year since 2022, and in 2023 I came second, so I was determined to win this year.

The worldwide group is like a support system. The saying we live by is ‘Play air guitar, avoid battles’. Though it appears humorous, but it’s a genuine belief.

The competition itself is high-energy yet fun. Participants have 60 seconds to give everything – high-powered performance, precise mimicry, performance charm – on an nonexistent axe. Judges evaluate you on a grading system from a specific numeric range. When it's a draw, there’s an “air-off” between the last two competitors: a song plays and you improvise.

Training is crucial. I picked an the band Avenged Sevenfold song for my act. I had it on repeat for a long time. I stretched constantly, trying to get my limbs prepared enough to bound, my digits fast enough to mimic solos and my upper body set for those bends and jumps. By the time competition day dawned, I could feel the song in my bones.

Once all acts were done, the results were tallied, and I had drawn with the Japanese champion, a competitor known as Sudo-chan – it was occasion for an final showdown. We went head-to-head to that classic rock anthem by the rock group. As the music started, I felt relieved because it was familiar to me, and more than anything I was so excited to have another go. As they declared I’d triumphed, the square erupted.

It's all a bit fuzzy. I think I lost consciousness from shock. Then the crowd started singing the song Rockin’ in the Free World and raised me up on to their backs. One of the greats – AKA his performer title – a past winner and one of my dear companions, was holding me. I shed tears. I was the first Finnish air guitar international titleholder in a quarter-century. The prior titleholder, the former champion, was there, too. He offered me the most heartfelt squeeze and said it was “about damn time”.

This worldwide group is like a support system. The phrase we live by is “Make air, not war”. It sounds silly, but it’s a real philosophy. Competitors come from many countries, and everyone is helpful and motivating. Before you go on stage, every competitor shows support. Then for 60 seconds you’re free to be yourself, playful, the ultimate music icon in the world.

I’m also a beat keeper and musician in a band with my brother called the group title, named after the football manager, as we’re inspired by Britpop and new wave. I’ve been working in bars for a short time, and I produce mini movies and performance clips. The title hasn’t altered my routine drastically but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I wish it brings more innovative opportunities. My hometown will be a cultural hub soon, so there are exciting things ahead.

At present, I’m just grateful: for the community, for the chance to perform, and for that little kid who read an article and thought, “I want to do that.”