Despite the absence of tangible molecules, an air guitar can take on a life of its own in the right set of hands. Held in the wrong hands, however, it becomes an invisible instrument of torture.
Of course it's one thing to strap on your fabricated Stratocaster and wail away in the sanctity of your bedroom mirror. Or maybe you sneak in a quick two-handed power chord while listening to the radio at a red light. A few might venture a fake guitar riff in front of a real person.
Then there are those willing to lay bare their make believe six-string playing souls in front of a live audience.
Such was the case this past Friday night at the Right Brain Brewery in Traverse City, as contestants made the leap from air guitar licks in the living room to under stage lights. Man, the magnitude of fearless fake fretwork on display; it was either a few copies of the "Complete Idiot's Guide to Air Guitar" finally put to use or plenty of liquid encouragement.
Now if you think an air guitar competition would be melodic as tone-deaf karaoke or competitive as Olympic curling then don't book a flight to Oulu, Finland in mid-August. After all, your luggage will probably get bumped to make way for all those empty guitar cases headed to the 13th annual Air Guitar World Championships.
However, it's a long way from Traverse City to the Land of the Midnight Sun if you want to rock 'n' roll -- air guitar style. Just ask Woobacca, Bean Machine or a guy named Eric.
Taking the stage with your pseudo name and guitar, you have 60 seconds to live out that rock god fantasy. A chance to act on a gnawing desire that has been welling up inside since junior high when you first heard Eddie Van Halen twisting the tremolo arm until it screamed, and you knew if you could shred like that, and with the right amount of Aqua Net in your hair, she couldn't say ... oh, yeah, back to Woobacca.
"I do this for myself, not for them," said the tattooed contestant, sporting an old-school Iron Maiden T-shirt. Them in this case would be the five judges presiding over the air guitar competition at the warehouse district brewery -- one of whom had their beer glass broken by a stage-leaping guy loosely named after a Stars Wars character.
Weird, huh. Whoever thought there was judging criteria for air guitar.
Not just rules mind you, but a set of official guidelines set forth by the US Air Guitar and Air Guitar World championships. Thus sanctioned air guitar contests consist of freestyle and compulsory rounds; all performances are scored on a scale from 4.0 to 6.0 -- think figure skating, but without the old Soviet Union voting bloc debacle. Performances are scored on three key criteria: technical merit (do you look like you're manhandling a Gibson guitar or strangling a meerkat), stage presence and airness (something akin to Zen air guitar or understanding any episode of "Lost").
In case you're wondering, air guitar roadies are allowed, but not on stage during a performance. I'm not sure about air groupies.
While I've plugged along on my fair share of air guitars -- no one ever goes Peter, Paul or Mary acoustic to kick out the jams -- my solos remain behind closed doors or red traffic light riffs. I don't think my left index finger really recovered from a juvenile attempt of Motorhead's frantic "Ace of Spades" solo back in 1980.
So I tip my triangular pretend guitar pick to the likes of Komodo Dragon, who had the audacity to smash her air guitar and Eric, the guy who so earnestly fell out of his shoe and off stage -- but kept on playing. Molecules aside, for 60 seconds you created life out of thin air.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com
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