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When I was just 10, I read about a feature in my local paper about the World Air Guitar Competition, held annually every year in my hometown of Oulu, Finland. My parents had helped out at the inaugural contest starting from 1996 – my mum gave out flyers, my dad organized the music. Ever since, domestic competitions have been staged globally, with the titleholders assembling in Oulu each August.

Back then, I inquired with my family if I could compete. Initially they had doubts; the event was in a bar, and there would be many grown-ups. They believed it might be an daunting atmosphere, but I was resolved.

In my youth, I was always miming air guitar, pretending to play to the biggest rock tunes with my make-believe instrument. My parents were enthusiasts – dad loved Springsteen and U2. the band AC/DC was the original act I discovered on my own. the lead guitarist, the lead guitarist, was my idol.

Upon entering the spotlight, I played my set to AC/DC’s that classic track. The spectators started shouting “Angus”, just like the live recording, and it dawned on me: this is what it feels like to be a guitar hero. I reached the championship, performing to crowds 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 started the show once more, but I didn't participate. I returned at 18, tried a few different stage names, but people kept calling me “Little Angus” so I decided to own it and make “The Angus” as my artist name. I’ve made it to the final annually from 2022 onward, and in 2023 I came second, so I was set to win this year.

The worldwide group is like a close-knit group. The saying we live by is ‘Make air, not war’. It sounds silly, but it’s a real philosophy.

The event is intense but joyful. Participants have 60 seconds to put their all – high-powered performance, flawless imitation, stage magnetism – on an nonexistent axe. The panel rate you on a scale from 4.0 to 6.0. If scores are equal, there’s an “air-off” between the final two contestants: a song plays and you create on the spot.

Getting ready is key. I chose an a metal group song for my performance. I had it on repeat for a long time. I did regular stretches, trying to get my lower body flexible enough to leap, my fingers quick enough to imitate guitar parts and my upper body prepared for those moves and leaps. Once the big day arrived, I could feel the song in my bones.

Once all acts were done, the points were announced, and I had drawn with the Japanese champion, the Japanese titleholder – it was occasion for an air-off. We faced off to that classic rock anthem by Guns N’ Roses. As the music started, I felt relieved because it was familiar to me, and primarily I was so thrilled to have another go. As they declared I’d won, the venue exploded.

It's all a bit fuzzy. I think I blacked out from shock. Then everyone started singing Neil Young’s the anthem Rockin' in the Free World and hoisted me on to their backs. Justin Howard – alias his performer title – a past winner and one of my best pals, was holding me. I wept. I was Finland’s first air guitar world champion in a quarter-century. The previous Finnish champion, the earlier victor, was there, too. He gave me the warmest embrace and said it was “about damn time”.

Our global network is like a support system. Our motto is “Focus on fun, not fighting”. It sounds silly, but it’s a real philosophy. Participants come from many countries, and all involved is helpful and motivating. As you prepare to compete, every competitor comes and hugs you. Then for 60 seconds you’re allowed to be yourself, humorous, the biggest rock star in the world.

Besides that, I'm a beat keeper and musician in a group with my family member called the band name, named after Gareth Southgate, as we’re influenced by UK rock and post-punk. I’ve been serving drinks for a few years now, and I direct mini movies and song visuals. The victory hasn’t altered my routine too much but I’ve been doing a lot of press, and I hope it results in more artistic projects. The city will be a European capital of culture soon, so there are great prospects.

At present, I’m just appreciative: for the community, for the chance to perform, and for that budding enthusiast who found a story and thought, “That's for me.”