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At the age of 10, I came across a story in my hometown newspaper about the World Air Guitar Competition, which take place every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. My parents had participated at the inaugural contest starting from 1996 – my mother handed out flyers, my father sorted the music. Ever since, national championships have been organized globally, with the champions converging in Oulu annually.

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

As a kid, I was always “playing” air guitar, acting out to the iconic rock tunes with my make-believe instrument. Mom and Dad were lovers of music – my father loved Springsteen and U2. the band AC/DC was the first band I discovered on my own. the lead guitarist, the guitar hero, was my hero.

When I stepped on stage, I did my routine to the band's Whole Lotta Rosie. The crowd started yelling “Angus”, reminiscent of the live recording, and it hit me: this must be to be a rock star. I reached the championship, competing to crowds in the town square, and I was addicted. I got the nickname “Little Angus” that day.

Then I took a break. I was a adjudicator one year, and started the show on another occasion, but I didn't participate. I went back at 18, tried a few different stage names, but everyone still referred to me as “Little Angus” so I decided to own it and adopt “The Angus” as my stage name. I’ve reached the finals annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I was the runner-up, so I was set to take the title this year.

The air guitar community is like a family. The saying we live by is ‘Make air, not war’. It may seem funny, but it’s a true ethos.

The event is high-energy yet fun. Contestants have one minute to deliver maximum effort – dynamic presence, flawless imitation, rock star charisma – on an imaginary instrument. Judges score you on a grading system from 4.0 to 6.0. If scores are equal, there’s an “air-off” between the remaining participants: a song plays and you improvise.

Getting ready is key. I selected an the band Avenged Sevenfold song for my routine. I played it repeatedly for weeks. I practiced flexibility, trying to get my legs loose enough to leap, my fingers quick enough to mimic solos and my spine ready for those bends and jumps. Once competition day dawned, I could sense the music in my soul.

When the show concluded, the results were tallied, and I had drawn with the Japanese champion, Yuta “Sudo-chan” Sudo – it was moment for an tiebreaker. We faced off to that classic rock anthem by the rock group. Once the track began, I felt comforted because it was familiar to me, and above all I was so eager to perform one more time. When they announced I’d won, the square exploded.

The moment is hazy. I think I lost consciousness from the excitement. Then the crowd started singing Neil Young’s that well-known track and lifted me on to their arms. A former champion – alias his performer title – a past winner and one of my dear companions, was hugging me. I cried. I was the first Finnish air guitar global winner in a quarter-century. The earlier winner from Finland, the former champion, was there, too. He offered me the most heartfelt squeeze and said it was “long overdue”.

Our global network is like a close-knit group. The phrase we live by is “Focus on fun, not fighting”. It sounds silly, but it’s a genuine belief. Participants come from globally, and all involved is positive and uplifting. As you prepare to compete, every competitor comes and hugs you. Then for a brief period you’re able to be free, playful, the biggest rock star in the world.

I’m also a percussionist and musician in a band with my family member called the group title, named after Gareth Southgate, as we’re influenced by British music genres. I’ve been serving drinks for a couple of years, and I produce independent videos and song visuals. The victory hasn’t affected my daily activities drastically 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 soon, so there are promising opportunities.

At present, I’m just thankful: for the network, for the ability to compete, and for that budding enthusiast who picked up a newspaper and thought, “That's for me.”