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Back when I was 10, I read about a story in my community gazette about the World Air Guitar Competition, that happens every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. My parents had volunteered at the inaugural contest starting from 1996 – my mother handed out flyers, my father organized the music. Ever since, domestic competitions have been staged in many nations, with the titleholders gathering in Oulu annually.

Back then, I requested permission if I could enter. They weren't sure at first; the show was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They felt it might be an intimidating atmosphere, but I was set on it.

In my youth, I was always miming air guitar, miming along to the biggest rock tunes with my invisible instrument. My family were enthusiasts – my dad loved Bruce Springsteen and U2. the Australian rockers was the original act I found independently. the lead guitarist, the guitar hero, was my hero.

Upon entering the spotlight, I performed my act to AC/DC’s the song Whole Lotta Rosie. The crowd started chanting “Angus”, reminiscent of the live recording, and it hit me: this must be to be a guitar hero. I made it to the finals, performing to hundreds of people in the town square, and I was hooked. I earned the moniker “Little Angus” that day.

Later I paused. I was a adjudicator one year, and opened for the show on another occasion, but I didn't participate. I went back at 18, experimented with various stage names, but everyone still referred to me as “Little Angus” so I decided to own it and choose “The Angus” as my artist name. I’ve reached the finals each competition since then, and in 2023 I placed second, so I was determined to take the title this year.

Our global network 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 contest is competitive but uplifting. Participants have 60 seconds to put their all – dynamic presence, perfect mime, performance charm – on an imaginary instrument. The panel evaluate you on a scale from four to six. When it's a draw, there’s an “tiebreaker” between the final two contestants: a tune begins and you improvise.

Training is crucial. I selected an a metal group song for my act. I played it repeatedly for multiple weeks. I did regular stretches, trying to get my lower body loose enough to bound, my hands fast enough to mimic solos and my upper body set for those bends and jumps. By the time competition day came, I could sense the music in my bones.

Once all acts were done, the results were tallied, and I had matched with the Japanese champion, a competitor known as Sudo-chan – it was moment for an tiebreaker. We competed directly to Sweet Child o’ Mine by the rock group. When I heard the song, I felt relieved because it was familiar to me, and primarily I was so eager to perform one more time. When they announced I’d won, the square erupted.

The moment is hazy. I think I lost consciousness from surprise. Then the crowd started singing Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World and hoisted me on to their backs. A former champion – alias his performer title – a former champion and one of my closest friends, was embracing me. I cried. I was the first Finnish air guitar world champion in 25 years. The prior titleholder, the former champion, was also present. He bestowed upon me the warmest embrace and said it was “about damn time”.

This worldwide group is like a close-knit group. The phrase we live by is “Create music, not conflict”. Though it appears comical, but it’s a true way of life. People come from globally, and all involved is helpful and motivating. As you prepare to compete, each contestant comes and hugs you. Then for a brief period you’re free to be free, playful, the biggest rock star in the world.

I’m also a beat keeper and string player in a band with my family member called the band name, referencing Gareth Southgate, as we’re inspired by UK rock and post-punk. I’ve been working in bars for a short time, and I direct independent videos and song visuals. The victory hasn’t altered my routine drastically but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I aspire it leads to more artistic projects. My hometown will be a European capital of culture soon, so there are great prospects.

At present, I’m just grateful: for the group, for the opportunity to play, and for that budding enthusiast who found a story and thought, “I'd love to try that.”