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At the age of 10, I read about a story in my local paper about the World Air Guitar Competition, which take place every year in my birthplace of Oulu, Finland. My parents had helped out at the pioneering contest back in 1996 – mom gave out flyers, my father managed the music. Ever since, country-level contests have been staged all across the world, with the champions gathering in Oulu each August.

Back then, I requested permission if I could compete. They weren't sure at first; the competition was in a bar, and there would be an older crowd. They felt it might be an overwhelming atmosphere, but I was determined.

During childhood, I was always miming air guitar, pretending to play to the iconic rock tunes with my make-believe instrument. Mom and Dad were enthusiasts – my dad loved Springsteen and U2. AC/DC was the initial group I found independently. the guitarist, the guitar hero, was my idol.

When I stepped on stage, I played my set to the band's Whole Lotta Rosie. The spectators started shouting “Angus”, reminiscent of the album track, and it dawned on me: this must be to be a rock star. I made it to the finals, performing to hundreds of people in the public plaza, and I was addicted. I got the nickname “Little Angus” that day.

Then I took a break. I was a judge one year, and kicked off the show another time, but I didn’t compete. I went back at 18, tried a few different stage names, but everyone still referred to me as “Little Angus” so I decided to own it and adopt “The Angus” as my performance alias. I’ve qualified for the last round annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I came second, so I was resolved to claim victory this year.

The air guitar community is like a family. Our guiding principle is ‘Make air, not war’. It sounds silly, but it’s a real philosophy.

The competition itself is intense but joyful. Participants have a short window to deliver maximum effort – explosive energy, precise mimicry, performance charm – on an nonexistent axe. The panel score you on a point range from four to six. When it's a draw, there’s an “air-off” between the final two contestants: a song plays and you freestyle.

Getting ready is key. I picked an the band Avenged Sevenfold song for my performance. I listened to it on a loop for a long time. I did regular stretches, trying to get my legs prepared enough to bound, my fingers quick enough to imitate guitar parts and my back ready for those bends and jumps. By the time the event arrived, I could feel the song in my bones.

After everyone had performed, the scores came in, and I had drawn with the winner from Japan, a competitor known as Sudo-chan – it was moment for an final showdown. We went head-to-head to that classic rock anthem by the rock group. Once the track began, I felt relieved because it was a tune I recognized, and above all I was so thrilled to perform one more time. As they declared I’d triumphed, the venue erupted.

It's all a bit fuzzy. I think I lost consciousness from shock. Then all present started performing the song the anthem Rockin' in the Free World and hoisted me on to their backs. A former champion – AKA Nordic Thunder – a previous titleholder and one of my closest friends, was embracing me. I wept. I was the inaugural from Finland air guitar global winner in a quarter-century. The prior titleholder, the earlier victor, was there, too. He bestowed upon me the biggest hug and said it was “finally happening”.

The air guitar community is like a support system. The phrase we live by is “Focus on fun, not fighting”. It may seem humorous, but it’s a real philosophy. People come from globally, and all involved is positive and uplifting. Before you go on stage, each contestant offers an embrace. Then for one minute you’re allowed to be yourself, playful, the top performer in the world.

I’m also a drummer and string player in a band with my sibling called the group title, inspired by Gareth Southgate, as we’re inspired by UK rock and post-punk. I’ve been bartending for a few years now, and I direct mini movies and performance clips. The victory hasn’t changed my day-to-day life drastically but I’ve been doing a extensive media, and I wish it leads to more artistic projects. Oulu will be a European capital of culture next year, so there are great prospects.

At present, I’m just thankful: for the community, for the opportunity to play, and for that little kid who found a story and thought, “That's for me.”