That said, when I drew the number 1 out of the hat and was thus relegated to going first there was a collective “Ooooo” followed immediately by a “Phew!” That was the only time I felt any sense of competition during the entire week I was there, and really, who wouldn’t be relieved to find out they didn’t have to go first?

With barely a full night’s sleep split between five days I actually managed to sleep for two hours this afternoon despite the big night I had ahead of me. Others reported similar bouts of narcolepsy.

5, 6, 7, Its On.
Backstage was a madhouse. It was like 15 bands all trying to share two dressing rooms. Throw in some press and a handful of people dutifully trying to keep everything organized and…it was pandemonium. At 9:30pm we were all ushered to the humongous stage and told to hang out. We all milled and circled and paced and kept each other precariously balanced between excited and nervous.

By now The Destroyer had become my closest friend. Barring a few hours where he and Christel hopefully had some ‘special alone time’ we have been pretty inseparable for the last few days. Before coming to Oulu I only knew him from his techno routine I saw on YouTube but now I recognize what a versatile, well-rounded and creative air guitarist he is. He is the first person I really watched convincingly switch between different styles of music, a trait I fear I lack (which is why I’ve been so bent about there being a compulsory song I don’t know). And on top of that he and Christel are truly great people. So I was very thankful to have them next to me during the performance, goading me on.

I have been playing concerts for more than half my life so I am no stranger to pre-show jitters, but this was a totally different animal. There was no band to back me up, there was no opening act to warm the audience up, there was just a sea of people and cameras and an entire online international contingent watching. Oh, and there were people off to the side of the stage literally waiting to judge me. I wouldn’t say what I was feeling was pressure or even nervousness, I think it was just confusion. Why am I here? How did I get here? What am I doing wearing a leopard print plastic eel skin jacket when I don’t like eel or leopard print? And why do ca---

“Hot Lixx! HOT LIXX!!”

I didn’t hear the MC on stage call my name. None of us did. It was the stagehand who yelled out for “Hot Lixx.” Everyone grew silent and still as we realized it was starting.

“Go!” someone finally yelled and I scurried up the ramp, totally unprepared, like I was in the middle of a sleep cycle. I could hear all my fellow contestants start yelling for me and it was comforting.
I met with the MC, a singer from a Finnish metal band who looked identical to a kid I grew up with, confusing me all the more. I told him I came from America with one simple message, “Moola ameesh vixet.” Translation: I have an ugly mustache.

I took my time once I was left on stage by myself. I gathered my thoughts, did some stretches, took a deep breath, and cued my music.

Points-wise I didn’t do too bad for going first. I’ve done the same routine much better before but for many reasons I wasn’t at the top of my game. Was it going first that stunted me? Was the audience too far away? Did the especially large ego ramp ruin my chi? Lack of sleep? Frustrated because I couldn’t flip between channels 17 and 18 fast enough? No matter, whatever the excuse was I had all the more reason to try harder next time.

And I still managed to move on to Round Two.

As for the rest of the contestants…man, there were some truly awesome acts… Heart Huckboard and Super IQ and, of course, The Destroyer being some of my favorites:

Click HERE for some videos.

Two days ago, back at High Altitude Boot Camp, I was sitting around the campfire sharing an ear of corn with one of organizers of the Oulunmusiikkivideofestivaalit. She mentioned the (enormous) article about me in the SF Chronicle wherein I mention how I was preparing for the big event by studying the Arctic Monkeys (based on Rockness Monster's suggestion). As it turns out they were actually up for being the compulsory song, that is until she read the article. Within an hour of this conversation I started singing myself that obnoxious “Whose Your Daddy?” song from the Gwar-like metal band, Lordi. Fast forward to tonight and what ends up being the compulsory song? The obnoxious “Whose Your Daddy?” song from the Gwar-like metal band, Lordi, of course. Later, after the competition, she and some of the other organizers finally had a chance to ask me how I knew what both songs were gonna be, like I had some inside tip. I didn’t, of course, and regardless, even by knowing the song I was still no match for Dainoji.

Even before he “played” a note the Japanese contender had the crowd in his hands. He was a chubby man with a lion-print knit sweater. I can't put my finger on what made him so special but the mere sight of him made people happy. I experienced this with the sombrero. Any time I appeared with the sombrero on people just sorta, I dunno, liked me.

The MC asked him “So, what are you gonna do for us tonight?”

“OK!” Dainoji said without a clue how Japanese he was being.

His charisma, mixed with some good original moves, mixed with that sweater earned him the top scores in both rounds and ultimately a Flying Finn Greg Ginn-esque guitar and a Brian May signature guitar amp and the title of 2006’s World Air Guitar Champion.

This is the second year in a row that a Dark Horse contender won the whole event. Once he was crowned everyone was invited onstage for a group air guitaring of Keep On Rockin’ In The Free World, complete with flash pots shooting flames 15 feet high. It was quite the rock’n’roll spectacle.

The press were in full force once the competition was over. I got asked the usual questions about how it felt not to win and are there really air groupies. I was also asked numerous times what direction I thought air guitar might be headed. Will it revert back to it’s pure, no frills, hair and cock-thrusting, American Bandstand-esque roots or will it develop into a close cousin of modern day professional wrestling with backflips off ladders and self-mutilation? Personally I’d like to see it do both. As with anything that attracts such a diverse group of people the art of air guitar will forever evolve.

When all the beer and snacks were gone and the club was shutting down everyone headed to a karaoke bar near the hotel. By the time we got there it was already packed with drunken middle-aged Finns slurring Finnish lyrics to mostly unrecognizable tunes.

Eventually the bar closed and we had nowhere to go but the hotel. Rumor had it people were congregating in Ben and Clay (the Kiwi and the Aussie)’s room so we went there.

When the polyester-jacketed manager of the hotel showed up no one was surprised, but no one was happy about it either. Knowing this party was just getting started he urged us to go to the hotel basement where we could make all the noise we wanted. And that we did.

A fun game we played was Try To Get The Italians Riled Up. It worked like this: do something. That’s it, that’s all it took. Anytime someone would hum the bass line to the White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” it immediately turned into another futball chant. And any time the elevator doors opened and someone new walked out there’d be a rousing “Ayyyyyeeeeeee!”. A couple people tried riding the elevator up and down just to see how many times the Italians would be excited to see them.

Someone managed to break into the pool and the sauna and before long it was full of naked Italians and shortly thereafter, random clothed people. The party went on till breakfast time and for the second day in a row we stayed up through the night and enjoyed the hotel’s free breakfast buffet.