AIR TO THE THRONE

My discovery of competitive air guitar, a deliciously addictive niche of pop culture, came unexpectedly at the 2006 South by Southwest Film festival in Austin, Texas. It was there that I stumbled across a film proclaiming to be the “Official Story of America’s Unofficial Pastime.”

The film, a documentary feature called “Air Guitar Nation,” follows the determined 2002 search for the first U.S. air guitar champion. While vying for this title, national contenders David “C-Diddy” Jung and Dan “Björn Türoque” Crane pioneer a new American pastime, creating a cult following for their sport in the process.

That night, I was invited by none other than the film’s director, Alexandra Lipsitz, to join the cast and crew for an “All-Star Air-Off.” Rocking steady with the world’s elite air guitarists to AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” served as my indoctrination to the world of air guitar and marked the beginning of my continuing love affair with every aspect of the sport.

Starting tonight, fellow Harvard students and aspiring local air guitarists will get the chance to share this love at a week of screenings of “Air Guitar Nation” hosted by the Brattle Theatre.

THRASHING ON CAMPUS

Crane, the sport’s perennial contender and a self-proclaimed “ambassador of air,” is as unworried about his title as he is by skeptics.

“Every reviewer starts out by saying, ‘I was kind of dreading seeing this movie,’ and they are completely blown away by how sympathetic they are to it,” says Crane. In fact, “Air Guitar Nation” is currently the third best-reviewed film of 2007, according to movie ratings-aggregation site RottenTomatoes.com.

The Brattle’s screening will not be Harvard’s first exposure to the world of air guitar. Charlie I. Miller ’08 and Ben E. Green ’06 brought the invisible instrument to campus in 2005 with an original musical entitled “Finding Their Guitar.” They say it was inspired by an online video clip of Jung performing at the 2003 Air Guitar World Championships in Oulu, Finland.

“I saw the clip of C-Diddy,” says Miller, “and it blew my mind.” He and Green quickly became absorbed by the production and their fascination with air guitar spread.

“Everyone who was involved in the production became quickly obsessed,” he remembers.

Crane, who included an e-mail from Miller in his 2006 autobiography, “To Air Is Human,” does not find it surprising that air guitar has extended through the ivy gates.

“For the students of Harvard, this is a chance for them to pop the cork off the champagne and let loose their repression. It’s a great release for collegiate angst,” says Crane.

Former air guitar champion Jung agrees: “It gives something on which to mount their rebellion.”

But would-be rebels should be forewarned. The intangibility of the air guitarists’ instruments has no effect on the seriousness with which they regard their craft.

“A great air guitarist is a true artist,” says Jung.

DEFINING ‘AIRNESS’

Equal parts sporting event, performance art, and party pastime, air guitar also promotes non-violence with an oft-said pacifist slogan, “Make Air, Not War.”

“They say that if everyone picked up an air guitar, they would have to drop their weapons and thus war would cease and peace would reign,” says Miller. “I think that perfectly sums up what air guitar is all about. On the one hand it’s completely ridiculous, but on the other hand, if you think about it, it’s true.”

Shortly after my initial exposure, I sought out and attended a local air guitar competition. I learned that contestants’ scores are determined by a figure-skating-style scale. A competitor receives zero to six points in three different categories: technical merit, stage presence, and—most important—“airness.”

“The formal definition of airness,” explains Jung, “is the extent to which the performance transcends the act of imitation and becomes a form of artistic expression unto itself.” Though it is easy to spot “airness” when it is displayed, the quality is not at all easy to attain, and many lesser air guitarists have failed in their mission to achieve it.

At that first competition, I witnessed an on-stage exorcism by a local champion known as the “Air Apostle.” In the face of his all-consuming “airness” I realized I had not earned the right to call myself an air guitarist. Yet.

I spent the ensuing month preparing for the next local competition. At that point, however, I was still a nonbeliever, consoling myself with the delusion that my budding love of air guitar was of the ironic sort.

I was forced to abandon this stance after a particularly aggressive attempt to perfect my “power windmill” stroke. Sustaining air-induced injuries to my neck and strumming arm taught me that, though the tongue begins very much in the cheek of every air guitarist, it is not long before that tongue is bared Gene Simmons-style and lolling about for all to see.

“It’s funny,” says Crane of this inevitable transformation. “We’re all aware of how ridiculous we’re being perceived, and yet when you get up on that stage and you’ve got a sold-out crowd at the Roxy in L.A. or a sold-out crowd of 5,000 in Finland—you kind of have to take it seriously.”

OZZY OZZY OZZY

Absolved of my hypocrisy, I began the difficult task of searching for my song. Concerning song choice, Jung advises aspiring air guitarists to look for inspiration in the man he calls “our lord and shepherd”: Ozzy Osborne.

No less difficult was the selection of my stage name. I sought a name that would transform me as much as the dentists and kindergarten teachers who forgot their inhibitions and became “Shred Kennedys” or “Twisted Sisters” once inside a house of air.

I ultimately settled on “Black Widow,” a handle I hoped would help devour my competition whole. Music and moniker in place, I honed my air skills until the night of competition arrived.

“It’s a very challenging and frightening thing to get up in front of a large throng of fans with absolutely nothing except your will and your furiosity,” says Jung of his own experiences competing.

“Those who stay true to the mission have the most success,” he adds. “People think you’re just an asshole. Then you dare to entertain, to express something, and if you believe in your message, the stage becomes your Mount Sinai.”

This summer, Crane will give his own Sermon on the Mount. For the month of June, in addition to playing what he refers to as the “there guitar” (similar to how e-mail users call paper correspondence “snail mail”) in his own New York-based band, Crane will visit 15 U.S. cities as emcee of the first official “Aireoke” tour.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Ironically, the day-to-day life as a touring air guitarist is not entirely unlike that of a true rock star. You know, the experience is pretty similar,” he says. “It can be pretty grueling and I get more groupies with the air guitar thing than with anything else. It’s as if I was going on tour with Guns N’ Roses.”

Crane’s involvement with the tour represents an honest effort to promote the international pastime that has become a summation of all that keeps us human: energy, emotion, honesty, and above all, “airness.”

“I’m trying to convert people to the ways of air,” he says. “And it beats a day job.”

—Staff writer Nayeli E. Rodriguez can be reached at nrodrig@fas.harvard.edu.