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When I was just 10, I read about a story in my community gazette about the Global Air Guitar Contest, which take place every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. Mom and Dad had helped out at the inaugural contest since 1996 – my mum gave out flyers, my dad sorted the music. From that point, country-level contests have been staged in many nations, with the titleholders converging in Oulu annually.

Back then, I inquired with my family if I could participate. Initially they had doubts; the show was in a bar, and there would be many grown-ups. They thought it might be an intimidating atmosphere, but I was resolved.

As a kid, I was always “playing” air guitar, acting out to the most popular rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. Mom and Dad were music fans – my dad loved Springsteen and the Irish rock band. AC/DC was the first band I discovered on my own. Angus Young, the frontman guitarist, was my idol.

Upon entering the spotlight, I played my set to AC/DC’s Whole Lotta Rosie. The crowd started chanting “Angus”, similar to the live recording, and it hit me: this is what it feels like to be a rock star. I reached the championship, playing to hundreds of people in the town square, and I was captivated. I was dubbed “Little Angus” that day.

Later I paused. I was a adjudicator one year, and kicked off the show on another occasion, but I didn't participate. I returned at 18, tested out several stage names, but people kept calling me “Little Angus” so I embraced it and choose “The Angus” as my performance alias. I’ve qualified for the last round each competition since then, and in 2023 I came second, so I was resolved to claim victory this year.

The worldwide group is like a support system. Our guiding principle is ‘Play air guitar, avoid battles’. Though it appears humorous, but it’s a true ethos.

The competition itself is intense but joyful. Contestants have one minute to put their all – high-powered performance, perfect mime, rock star charisma – on an nonexistent axe. Judges score you on a scale from a specific numeric range. If scores are equal, there’s an “showdown” between the remaining participants: a tune begins and you improvise.

Preparation is everything. I picked an a metal group song for my performance. I had it on repeat for multiple weeks. I practiced flexibility, trying to get my limbs loose enough to jump, my digits nimble enough to imitate guitar parts and my spine prepared for those bends and jumps. Once the event arrived, I could sense the music in my being.

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 tiebreaker. We competed directly to that classic rock anthem by the rock group. When I heard the song, I felt relieved because it was a tune I recognized, and primarily I was so thrilled to play again. Once the results were read I’d emerged victorious, the venue exploded.

The moment is hazy. I think I zoned out from shock. Then everyone started performing the song that well-known track and raised me up on to their shoulders. One of the greats – also known as his performer title – a former champion and one of my dear companions, was hugging me. I shed tears. I was the first Finnish air guitar world champion in a quarter-century. The earlier winner from Finland, Markus “Black Raven” Vainionpää, was there, too. He gave me the warmest embrace and said it was “finally happening”.

The air guitar community is like a family. Our motto is “Focus on fun, not fighting”. Though it appears comical, but it’s a genuine belief. People come from globally, and everyone is positive and uplifting. Prior to performing, each contestant offers an embrace. Then for 60 seconds you’re able to be yourself, silly, the ultimate music icon in the world.

Additionally, I am a percussionist and string player in a group with my family member called the band name, named after the football manager, as we’re inspired by Britpop and new wave. I’ve been bartending for a couple of years, and I create short films and performance clips. The victory hasn’t affected my daily activities drastically but I’ve been doing a many interviews, and I hope it leads to more artistic projects. My hometown will be a European capital of culture the coming year, so there are great prospects.

Currently, I’m just thankful: for the community, for the chance to perform, and for that young child who found a story and thought, “That's for me.”