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Back when I was 10, I discovered a story in my local paper about the World Air Guitar Competition, held annually every year in my native city of Oulu, Finland. My parents had participated at the very first contest since 1996 – my mum handed out flyers, my father sorted the music. Since then, national championships have been staged in many nations, with the winners assembling in Oulu annually.

At the time, I asked my parents if I could enter. Initially they had doubts; the show was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They felt it might be an daunting atmosphere, but I was determined.

In my youth, I was always performing air guitar, acting out to the biggest rock tunes with my make-believe instrument. My parents were lovers of music – my father loved Bruce Springsteen and U2. AC/DC was the initial group I discovered on my own. Angus Young, the frontman guitarist, was my hero.

Upon entering the spotlight, I did my routine to the band's the song Whole Lotta Rosie. The crowd started yelling “Angus”, similar to the concert version, and it hit me: this is what it feels like to be a guitar hero. I advanced to the last round, performing to a large audience in Oulu’s market square, and I was captivated. I earned the moniker “Little Angus” that day.

Then I took a break. I was a judge one year, and opened for the show once more, but I stayed out of the contest. I came back at 18, experimented with various stage names, but people kept calling me “Little Angus” so I accepted it fully and adopt “The Angus” as my artist name. I’ve qualified for the last round annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I placed second, so I was determined to claim victory this year.

The worldwide group is like a support system. The saying we live by is ‘Make air, not war’. Though it appears humorous, but it’s a real philosophy.

The event is intense but joyful. Participants have one minute to deliver maximum effort – dynamic presence, precise mimicry, performance charm – on an invisible guitar. The panel evaluate you on a point range from four to six. In the case of a tie, there’s an “showdown” between the last two competitors: a track is selected and you create on the spot.

Getting ready is key. I selected an Avenged Sevenfold song for my routine. I listened to it on a loop for a long time. I stretched constantly, trying to get my lower body loose enough to leap, my fingers quick enough to mimic solos and my back ready for those bends and jumps. When the big day dawned, I could feel the song in my being.

After everyone had performed, the points were announced, and I had matched with the Japanese champion, Yuta “Sudo-chan” Sudo – it was time for an air-off. We faced off to Sweet Child o’ Mine by the rock group. Once the track began, I felt comforted because it was familiar to me, and more than anything I was so thrilled to perform one more time. As they declared I’d emerged victorious, the area went wild.

My memory is blurry. I think I blacked out from the excitement. Then all present started chanting Neil Young’s that well-known track and hoisted me on to their shoulders. One of the greats – AKA his performer title – a former champion and one of my best pals, was embracing me. I cried. I was the inaugural from Finland air guitar world champion in two and a half decades. The earlier winner from Finland, the former champion, was in attendance as well. He offered me the warmest embrace and said it was “long overdue”.

The air guitar community is like a close-knit group. Our motto is “Make air, not war”. It sounds silly, but it’s a genuine belief. Participants come from globally, and everyone is supportive and encouraging. As you prepare to compete, all participants shows support. Then for 60 seconds you’re able to be free, silly, the top performer in the world.

Besides that, I'm a percussionist and guitarist in a group with my sibling called the band name, referencing the football manager, as we’re fans of British music genres. I’ve been serving drinks for a short time, and I produce independent videos and performance clips. The victory hasn’t changed my day-to-day life too much but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I wish it brings more creative work. My hometown will be a designated cultural center soon, so there are exciting things ahead.

For now, I’m just appreciative: for the community, for the chance to perform, and for that little kid who found a story and thought, “I want to do that.”