🔗 Share this article

Back when I was 10, I read about a article in my community gazette about the Global Air Guitar Contest, held annually every year in my hometown of Oulu, Finland. My parents had helped out at the pioneering contest starting from 1996 – my mum gave out flyers, dad sorted the music. From that point, domestic competitions have been organized all across the world, with the winners gathering in Oulu each August.

At the time, I inquired with my family if I could enter. They weren't sure at first; the competition was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They thought it might be an daunting atmosphere, but I was set on it.

In my youth, I was always performing air guitar, miming along to the biggest rock tunes with my imaginary instrument. My family were lovers of music – dad loved The Boss and the Irish rock band. AC/DC was the initial group I found independently. the lead guitarist, the guitar hero, was my idol.

As I took the stage, I did my routine to AC/DC’s the song Whole Lotta Rosie. The crowd started shouting “Angus”, reminiscent of the concert version, and it dawned on me: so this is to be a guitar hero. I made it to the finals, playing to crowds in Oulu’s market square, and I was addicted. I earned the moniker “Little Angus” that day.

Later I paused. I was a referee one year, and kicked off the show on another occasion, but I didn’t compete. 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 make “The Angus” as my artist name. I’ve qualified for the last round every year since 2022, and in 2023 I came second, so I was set to claim victory this year.

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

The contest is intense but joyful. Competitors have 60 seconds to give everything – high-powered performance, flawless imitation, stage magnetism – on an imaginary instrument. Judges score you on a scale from a specific numeric range. If scores are equal, there’s an “tiebreaker” between the final two contestants: a track is selected and you improvise.

Getting ready is key. I picked an a metal group song for my act. I listened to it on a loop for multiple weeks. I did regular stretches, trying to get my limbs flexible enough to bound, my digits nimble enough to copy riffs and my upper body set for those bends and jumps. Once the big day dawned, I could sense the music in my bones.

When the show concluded, the scores came in, and I had tied with the titleholder from Japan, the Japanese titleholder – it was moment for an final showdown. We competed directly to that classic rock anthem by the rock group. Once the track began, I felt comforted because it was a tune I recognized, and more than anything I was so excited to play again. As they declared I’d emerged victorious, the square exploded.

It's all a bit fuzzy. I think I zoned out from shock. Then everyone started singing the song that well-known track and hoisted me on to their shoulders. Justin Howard – alias his stage name – a past winner and one of my dear companions, was hugging me. I wept. I was the inaugural from Finland air guitar global winner in a quarter-century. The prior titleholder, the former champion, was there, too. He gave me the biggest hug and said it was “about damn time”.

The air guitar community is like a close-knit group. The phrase we live by is “Make air, not war”. It sounds silly, but it’s a genuine belief. Competitors come from globally, and everyone is helpful and motivating. Before you go on stage, every competitor comes and hugs you. Then for a brief period you’re allowed to be yourself, humorous, the ultimate music icon in the world.

I’m also a drummer and musician in a band with my brother called the Southgates, inspired by Gareth Southgate, as we’re influenced by Britpop and new wave. I’ve been serving drinks for a few years now, and I create short films and song visuals. The victory hasn’t changed my day-to-day life too much but I’ve been doing a extensive media, and I aspire it leads to more creative work. My hometown will be a cultural hub the coming year, so there are great prospects.

Currently, I’m just thankful: for the group, for the opportunity to play, and for that young child who found a story and thought, “That's for me.”