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At the age of 10, I came across a article in my community gazette about the Global Air Guitar Contest, that happens every year in my hometown of Oulu, Finland. Mom and Dad had helped out at the pioneering contest back in 1996 – my mother distributed flyers, my dad managed the music. From that point, country-level contests have been staged globally, with the winners converging in Oulu every summer.

Back then, I requested permission if I could compete. At first they were hesitant; the event was in a bar, and there would be a lot of adults. They believed it might be an overwhelming atmosphere, but I was determined.

As a kid, I was always “playing” air guitar, acting out to the most popular rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. My parents were enthusiasts – dad loved Bruce Springsteen and U2. the band AC/DC was the original act I stumbled upon myself. the guitarist, the frontman guitarist, was my inspiration.

As I took the stage, I played my set to the band's that classic track. The spectators started chanting “Angus”, similar to the concert version, and it dawned on me: so this is to be a music icon. I advanced to the last round, competing to hundreds of people in the town square, and I was hooked. I was dubbed “Little Angus” that day.

After that I stopped. I was a judge one year, and kicked off the show once more, but I didn't participate. I returned at 18, tried a few different stage names, but everyone still referred to me as “Little Angus” so I embraced it and adopt “The Angus” as my stage name. I’ve made it to the final 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. Our guiding principle is ‘Make air, not war’. It may seem funny, but it’s a genuine belief.

The event is intense but joyful. Contestants have 60 seconds to put their all – dynamic presence, precise mimicry, performance charm – on an imaginary instrument. The panel evaluate you on a grading system from a specific numeric range. If scores are equal, there’s an “showdown” between the remaining participants: a song plays and you create on the spot.

Getting ready is key. I chose an a metal group song for my act. I played it repeatedly for weeks. I practiced flexibility, trying to get my lower body flexible enough to bound, my digits quick enough to copy riffs and my spine prepared for those gestures and hops. By the time the event came, I could internalize the track in my bones.

After everyone had performed, the scores came in, and I had drawn with the Japanese champion, a competitor known as Sudo-chan – it was occasion for an air-off. We faced off to the Guns N’ Roses hit by Guns N’ Roses. Once the track began, I felt comforted because it was a tune I recognized, and above all I was so thrilled to have another go. As they declared I’d won, the venue erupted.

The moment is hazy. I think I zoned out from the excitement. Then everyone started singing the song Rockin’ in the Free World and lifted me on to their shoulders. Justin Howard – alias his stage name – a past winner and one of my dear companions, was hugging me. I cried. I was the first Finnish air guitar global winner in two and a half decades. The prior titleholder, the former champion, was in attendance as well. He gave me the most heartfelt squeeze and said it was “about damn time”.

The air guitar community is like a support system. The phrase we live by is “Create music, not conflict”. Though it appears comical, but it’s a real philosophy. Competitors come from globally, and everyone is helpful and motivating. Prior to performing, every competitor shows support. Then for one minute you’re allowed to be free, silly, the biggest rock star in the world.

Besides that, I'm a drummer and musician in a group with my sibling called the Southgates, inspired by Gareth Southgate, as we’re fans of British music genres. I’ve been working in bars for a short time, and I direct short films and performance clips. The victory hasn’t affected my daily activities drastically but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I aspire it results in more creative work. My hometown will be a designated cultural center the coming year, so there are great prospects.

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