Pump up the volume

Sydney Morning Herald ^ | 02/22/02 | Sacha Molitorisz

[peabers]

-	ENTERTAINMENT

Pump up the volume

Air heads: heat winner Crooksy. Photo: Dómino Postiglione

In the name of world peace, Sacha Molitorisz fakes it with an air guitar called Nicole.

This is not happening. I am not on stage at Penrith Panthers. I am not being watched by 100 people. I am certainly not holding an air guitar.

I open my eyes and nearly swallow my tongue. (Which is not such a bad thing - at least it stops me hyperventilating.) Then I realise my furious and sustained denials have had no effect whatsoever. I am on stage at Penrith Panthers. A hundred people - no, more - are staring at me like starving carnivores. Most disturbingly, in my hands is an invisible guitar which I am about to play. Correction: pretend to play.

How have I come to be entered in the 2002 Australian Air Guitar Championships? Only now and far too late have I become convinced this event is real. Unlike my guitar. Over the previous half-hour, I have witnessed six contestants leap and grimace, strut and pout, skip and prance. Now it's my turn. In the words of (real) guitarist David Byrne, "Well, how did I get here?"

I blame my editor. All I did was mention that this air guitar competition sounded like fun, the next moment he was filling in my application form.

From the competition's Web site (www.airguitaraustralia.com) I learned I was entering the first of two NSW heats for the first-ever Australian Air Guitar Championships, which would be followed by a state final and, in March, a national final. First prize is a trip to Oulu in Finland, where the winner will compete in the seventh Air Guitar World Championships in August.

Contestants have to complete two one-minute rounds: the free round, for which they supply their own song, and the compulsory round, for which they "play" a song announced on the night.

"Air guitarists' guitars must be invisible, that is, air," says the Web site. "Air guitarists can play electric, acoustic, or bass air guitar, or all of them. Help from personal air roadies is allowed. Judges pay close attention to the air guitarists' originality, devotion, charisma and technique."

The site states the competition's overriding aim is to promote world peace. In its words: "All evil things disappear from the world whenever people play the air guitar."

I submitted an entry form under the alias Sam "Slowhand" Hooker. As the weeks passed, my nervousness increased so that by the morning of the competition I was a trembling mess. I mean, what if I was good?

At 8pm, I shuffled up the stairs inside Panthers to Dominique's Cocktail Lounge, possibly the least exclusive cocktail lounge on the planet.

To compensate for my lack of preparation, I tried to distract the three judges by dressing flamboyantly. Which meant my '70s wallpaper shirt - pure polyester, which was a worry. If, on the spur of the moment, I came over all Jimi Hendrix and pretended to set my guitar on fire, this shirt was so inflammable the mere suggestion of a spark might cause it to explode.

No matter, that shirt was my lucky charm. Until I was told to put on an official air guitar comp T-shirt, just like everyone else. Tempering my disappointment was the knowledge that my wallpaper shirt had already been eclipsed by the outfit of one of my rivals anyway - an oversized afro and dangerously tight polyester flares. I figured he shouldn't try the flaming guitar trick either.

At 8.15pm, I took my CD to the sound man. In a moment of madness I had chosen a track by Melbourne band the Lucksmiths. They play folk. My logic was that most contestants would choose a rock classic by bands such as Black Sabbath or Queen. If I chose something different, I'd be rewarded. But hopefully not too much. I didn't want to win.

At 8.30pm the eight contestants, all men, filed onto the stage. Several looked serious. And dangerous. One wore a black glove and a beanie. Another had dreadlocks and leather pants. We each picked a card from the MC to determine the running order. I would be second-last.

Fifteen minutes later, the first contestant took to the stage. He had a shaved head, dark glasses and very little shame. He was good. Next was Afro Boy, who said his major influence was Rachmaninoff. "You'll all hear it," he said, before putting one foot up on the amp and thrusting his groin at the crowd. Then Rich Pudding (possibly not his real name) shook and jumped until the next competitor, Tim, admitted he used to play real guitar except it hurt his fingers. Then Michael banged his dreadlocks to Sepultura. And yes, the music was hard: AC/DC, Van Halen, the Foo Fighters.

The MC called for Sam Hooker. "Yeah," slurred a table of drunk young women beside the stage, "we want the hooker!" The MC waited patiently, until I remembered Sam Hooker was me.

"So, you're going to do Thin Lizzy?" she asked when I reached the stage. She was reading from my entry form. "Um, no," I told the crowd awkwardly. "I've changed my mind, if that's OK. I'm going to do a song that's more straightforward. I'm an air guitar novice, so I just want to get the chords right."

So here I am. My eyes are closed and it is eerily quiet. All I hear is the sound of one hand playing air guitar. I wonder if I should pretend to tune Nicole (you have to give a guitar a name) or whether, halfway through the performance, I should break a string. Or drop my plectrum.

Then the music starts. I start to strum, just like I haven't practised. My look is one of intense concentration, because I am concentrating intensely. I don't know which chords the Lucksmiths use in their song but I take a wild punt and try to time the changes correctly. I'm the pretend equivalent of the dullest guitarist you ever saw.

But the crowd seems to like it and, after 30 long seconds, my nerves subside. My feet even do a little dance. And finally my minute is over.

During the break between rounds, I start talking with other competitors. "We're just here for a laugh," says Matt, the one in the beanie and black glove. "Yeah," says Crooksy, the one with dreadlocks and leather pants. Both are from Newtown; both are extroverted; both are funny. "I've been doing this since I was six," says Crooksy. "When I was young my dad used to play in bands and rehearse in the lounge room. By the time I was 12, air guitar came as naturally to me as scratchin' me balls."

Soon it's time for the compulsory round, so we shuffle to the back of the stage to hear the selected song, Deep Purple's Smoke On The Water. We listen once, then draw another card. This time I'm second.

We file into the adjacent Evan Theatre until it's our turn on stage, so as not to receive an unfair advantage by hearing the track more often. Backstage, we are delighted to find no expense has been spared with the air cocaine and air groupies.

"They were some great leaps you were doing out there," I say to Matt. "Especially when you landed on your knees. Must have hurt." Matt smiles and raises the cuffs of his pants to reveal kneepads. Clever. I return to tending the imaginary blisters on my fingers.

A minute later, I am back on stage. "This song is very difficult," I tell the crowd. "So I'm going to have to play it sitting down." I figure my schtick may as well be consistent. When the music kicks in, however, I start badly, confused as to whether I'm playing rhythm or lead. Then I realise with a flash that if I don't play lead, I'm just pretending, which I am anyway, but ... oh, you know what I mean. So I play lead and stand up and take a step forward. And gyrate my hips. Nothing too flash, though, because I don't want my playing to suffer.

Afterwards, as I watch the final six performers, I'm still telling myself I don't want to win, though now I'm not so sure. But it'll be tough: these guys have all the moves. The Jimi backscratch. The Angus hop. The Spinal Tap.

Finally, the heat winners are announced: Afro Boy, Matt and Crooksy. Sam Hooker will not be progressing to the state final. I am disappointed, I admit.

As a runner-up, I am awarded a voucher for "one house spirit or Toohey product", valid that night only. And the Best Ever Air Guitar CD and Best Ever Air Guitar Instruction Manual. "We suggest you hold the air-neck in your non-drinking hand," says the manual. "If you drink with both hands, we suggest the hand you drink with less. If you can't work that out put your Air Guitar back in its box and go to the pub."

The NSW final of the Australian Air Guitar Championships is at Penrith Panthers on Thursday night.

[peabers]

If you were to enter an air guitar contest, what song would you choose?

[randog]

Anything by Air Supply?