Tone Loki
Air It Out
Plug in your invisible guitar into a pretend amp and rock out!
The spotlight lit up Erik Peterson as he stepped onto the stage
at Dreamcatcher at Viejas dressed in a plaid kilt accessorized
with shaggy fur wristbands and a plastic Viking helmet with
fake blond braids. The crowd was silent as he slowly raised his
right arm, his index finger pointed upwards to signal the start
of the music.
When the first note jumped out of the speaker, Peterson
became Tone Loki, leaping all over the stage, playing invisible
solos and imaginary licks on his nonexistent guitar.
Peterson had driven from Albuquerque to compete in the San
Diego leg of the U.S. Air Guitar National Championships. Contestants
paid $20 for the chance to pretend to play along with a favorite
rock or metal tune edited down to 60 seconds. The winner bags
$400 and the chance to go on to compete against 23 other
air-guitar champions at the August 8 nationals in San Francisco.
Some might scoff at the idea of pretending to jam to "Welcome
to the Jungle" in front of a crowd of 200, but the night's lineup
of air guitarists was dead serious about their "airness."
Three judges score the performances and throw out snappy
burns and put-downs as critique -- something like an R-rated
Gong Show.
Backstage, the air guitarists were treated better than most touring
bands. There were cases of iced-down beer, bottles of Cuervo
tequila, and trays of cheeses and other snacks.
Madness
All of the free-flowing beer had George "Madness" Hunter a little
concerned. During introductions, Madness raised a giant, muscular
arm and began to ask a question. "Last year somebody spilled
some beer on the stage and left a big puddle, and it ruined my kicks...."
The organizers assured him his kicks would be okay. "It's a big
stage. It's rock 'n' roll."
Madness drove down from San Gabriel to air guitar to Quiet Riot's
instrumental "Battle Axe." His costume was classic '80s rocker:
a long wig, tight-fitting sleeveless shirt, and crotch-bulging acid-wash
jeans. Along with a couple of big kicks, Madness mixed in some
pirouettes -- which cost him points with the judges.
Along with Madness and Tone Loki, the majority of the night's
performers were out-of-towners taking advantage of San Diego's
low sign-up numbers. The Crusher cruised down from Costa Mesa,
Gobo flew in from San Francisco, and L.A.'s Therocknessfuckingmonster,
a former national champion, arrived with the promoters aboard
their giant tour bus.
Dan "The Man" Adams
Dan "The Man" Adams took the prize for longest travel distance. The
Ohio resident hit the road to tour as an air guitarist, driving solo
from town to town in his hybrid car.
"I work for a school district, and I got a two-month unpaid leave of
absence to do this," says Adams. "In Detroit I placed third, then fifth
in Cleveland, seventh in Chicago."
At Viejas he was carried onstage on a hand truck decked out in a
glittery Mylar suit, looking like a disco-y Hannibal Lecter. He pointed
to the roof, and a 60-second edit of Quiet Riot's "Mental Health"
rocked the house. Dan performed the song as if he owned it, but it
wasn't enough for the judges.
Three of the four local competitors made it to the finals. The San
Diegan failing to advance was Count Cougar Slayer, aka X1FM
producer Andrew Wehrung.
Yoko Airo
Tierrasanta's Yoko Airo had this to say: "Anyone can get up there
and pretend to strum, but it's really the moves that make it air guitar.
It's known as 'airness' -- that whole feeling of your head thrashing
and the fretwork. You have kicks and jumps. I didn't have that kind of
confidence to perform those things -- I was one of those strummers.
I started practicing, and people started telling me I was getting pretty
good at it. I have some groupies out there."
While most of her competition was hanging out backstage drinking
beer, Airo -- Karin Roelke, pharmaceutical saleswoman -- had her
headphones on, one leg bouncing nervously to the sound of her
edited-for-performance version of AC/DC's "T.N.T."
"I basically consulted with people that grew up during that era,"
says Roelke. "A lot of people are closet air guitarists, but they
don't want to admit it. Everyone who grew up during the Van Halen
days, AC/DC, Guns N' Roses -- everyone has an air guitar. So I
would practice in front of them, and they would give me pointers.
It's really a collaboration of closet air guitarists, and I'm the
embodiment of them."
Roelke points to her knees. "There's injuries involved. I took all the
skin off my knees. I thought I could do a knee slide in my house
on my wooden floors, and that didn't work out very well." Many
of the competitors had scabs on their knees from home-practice
sliding sessions.
Onstage, with Angus Young blasting through the P.A., Roelke tore
off her conservative business suit to reveal a denim skirt, fishnet
stockings, and studded wristbands. Airo's airness would land her
in the finals.
J-Prime
Bonita's Joseph Balan, aka J-Prime, is a junior high math teacher
by day and an actor by night. While he mostly listens to hip-hop,
he thought air guitaring to Trans-Siberian Orchestra's intricate
fretting would set him apart from the hard-rock competitors. That
and some thrashed-out Russian dancing earned him a spot in the finals.
The air-guitar underdog was Mary Jane, who dances to Slipknot,
Hatebreed, and Marilyn Manson at Little Darlings in Lemon Grove.
Despite her dancing career, she sat backstage pounding beer,
nervous about playing her invisible axe and describing the butterflies
as the embarrassed feeling of "being caught on the toilet."
She sauntered out and her dancer instinct took over. She whipped
her blonde mane around to a Mudvayne tune and worked a make-believe
stripper pole. When the scores were tallied, the Crusher and Gobo
would take on locals J-Prime, Yoko Airo, and Mary Jane.
Gobo
Gobo called in sick to work to compete at this event after failing to
advance to the San Francisco city finals two nights before.
"I was totally ripped off," says Todd Nakagawa, aka Gobo. "I missed
second round by .3 points because I did not have a costume, and
that's what pisses me off. I take this totally seriously. This is fucking
dead serious. It's a fucking art form, but a lot of people have turned
it into a freak show who need some costume or gimmick. Yeah, you
need to get the crowd going, but it's a frickin' art form. Hey, the
Finns know that, the Europeans know that, and even in the documentary
[Air Guitar Nation, 2006] they mocked America because they think
we don't take it seriously. But there are a bunch of us that do.
"I've been doing this since I was a kid. One of my best memories is
listening to Santana's 'She's Not There.' I was a one-man band. I
was playing guitar with my tennis racket, playing drums with -- and
this sounds really stupid -- with a chopstick sticking out of my butt
and kicking like this, and my mom is yelling, 'What the hell are you
doing?'"
The five finalists would compete against national champion and
twice national runner-up Therocknessfuckingmonster -- L.A.'s
Fatima Hoang.
Therocknessfuckingmonster
Hoang, a star in the air-guitar community, was here to crush the
locals so he could capture a spot in the nationals after losing in
L.A. the night before. Hoang says he's hanging up his air guitar
and retiring after this tour.
Tonight's winner would be decided by the ability to air to Skid Row's
hair-metal anthem "Youth Gone Wild." Edited down from more than
three minutes, the 60-second version had everything for an air
guitarist -- guitar breaks, drum fills, and a deafening chorus.
The five novices were no contest for Therocknessfuckingmonster's
experience and air versatility. A surprised Mary Jane took second
and celebrated backstage by handing out free passes to Little Darlings.
Gobo was proud to place third after his disappointing showing in San
Francisco. Yoko Airo grabbed fourth and J-Prime came in fifth, with
both locals pleased with their performances.
There wasn't much time for congratulations -- Skynyrd's "Free Bird"
began pouring out of the speakers, calling the evening's air guitarists
to the stage for an all-star jam.