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At the age of 10, I came across a article in my community gazette about the Air Guitar World Championships, that happens every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. My parents had helped out at the very first contest since 1996 – my mother handed out flyers, dad organized the music. Since then, domestic competitions have been staged globally, with the winners gathering in Oulu every summer.

Back then, I requested permission if I could participate. Initially they had doubts; the show was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They believed it might be an daunting atmosphere, but I was resolved.

As a kid, I was always miming air guitar, miming along to the biggest rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. My family were lovers of music – my dad loved The Boss and U2. the Australian rockers was the first band I discovered on my own. the guitarist, the frontman guitarist, was my idol.

As I took the stage, I played my set to AC/DC’s the song Whole Lotta Rosie. The spectators started yelling “Angus”, just like the live recording, and it hit me: so this is to be a guitar hero. I advanced to the last round, competing to hundreds of people in the town square, and I was captivated. I was dubbed “Little Angus” that day.

After that I stopped. I was a referee one year, and kicked off the show another time, but I didn’t compete. I went back at 18, tested out several stage names, but everyone still referred to me as “Little Angus” so I decided to own it and choose “The Angus” as my stage name. I’ve made it to the final annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I was the runner-up, so I was determined to take the title this year.

The worldwide group is like a family. Our motto is ‘Make air, not war’. It sounds silly, but it’s a genuine belief.

The competition itself is high-energy yet fun. Contestants have one minute to put their all – explosive energy, perfect mime, rock star charisma – on an invisible guitar. The panel evaluate you on a point range from four to six. If scores are equal, there’s an “showdown” between the final two contestants: a track is selected and you create on the spot.

Getting ready is key. I selected an the band Avenged Sevenfold song for my performance. I played it repeatedly for multiple weeks. I practiced flexibility, trying to get my legs loose enough to leap, my hands quick enough to imitate guitar parts and my spine prepared for those bends and jumps. Once the big day dawned, I could internalize the track in my bones.

After everyone had performed, the results were tallied, and I had matched with the titleholder from Japan, a competitor known as Sudo-chan – it was time for an air-off. We faced off to Sweet Child o’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses. As the music started, I felt comforted because it was one that I knew, and primarily I was so thrilled to play again. Once the results were read I’d triumphed, the venue exploded.

The moment is hazy. I think I lost consciousness from surprise. Then everyone started singing the song Rockin’ in the Free World and raised me up on to their shoulders. A former champion – alias his stage name – a former champion and one of my dear companions, was embracing me. I shed tears. I was Finland’s first air guitar world champion in two and a half decades. The prior titleholder, the earlier victor, was in attendance as well. He bestowed upon me the biggest hug and said it was “finally happening”.

The air guitar community is like a family. The phrase we live by is “Create music, not conflict”. Though it appears comical, but it’s a real philosophy. Competitors come from many countries, and each person is helpful and motivating. Before you go on stage, every competitor comes and hugs you. Then for a brief period you’re free to be yourself, silly, the top performer in the world.

I’m also a beat keeper and string player in a group with my sibling called the band name, inspired by the football manager, as we’re fans of British music genres. I’ve been working in bars for a couple of years, and I direct independent videos and song visuals. The title hasn’t affected my daily activities drastically but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I wish it leads to more creative work. My hometown will be a European capital of culture next year, so there are promising opportunities.

At present, I’m just grateful: for the group, for the ability to compete, and for that young child who found a story and thought, “I'd love to try that.”