7 lessons from a career in air guitar.
Air on Maiden | goals <-> way of life | stories & a playlist
Welcome to People Like You, a weekly newsletter that explores the stories, questions and ideas that help people design a better life.
This issue at a glance:
Air on Maiden - lessons from my air guitar days
Quote - Don’t look for goals
Three stories worth sharing
Recommendations on kindness, digital minimalism & happy accidents
People Like Us (listen to things like this)
AIR ON MAIDEN | the world’s first & loudest air band | 2002-2004
Yep. That’s me - 20 years ago. Main stage at one of the largest festivals in Belgium.
We had arrived by limo. After the gig, we left by helicopter.
The only equipment we carried: a change of clothes. And a good story.
Here’s how I stumbled onto a career in air guitar. Not a word of it is untrue (I still have the pants to prove it) and it taught me some of life’s most valuable lessons.
Might as well jump (Jump!)
In 2002, my then-girlfriend worked in a music club. They were hosting the first Belgian air guitar championship. Only five participants had signed up. So she asked me to take part as well - as I played (real) guitar too.
I thought it was a hilarious idea, so I joined in. Dressed up as a caveman, I performed to Manowar’s “Metal Warriors”. I had a blast on stage, and I became the first-ever Belgian Air Guitar Champion. The next day, the news was on national tv and radio. Concert promoters started calling me.
But the thing is - a championship performance is solo, and lasts 2 minutes. Promoters needed a 30-minute show. So I asked three musician friends to join me for a few gigs as the world’s first air band: Air on Maiden.
We made medleys of our favourite rock anthems. We shopped for outfits. And we started practising like crazy. First on our 'real' instruments - making sure we could play the songs note for note. Then, we’d leave the instruments out. We rehearsed in a ballet studio (big mirrors) for weeks - until it looked like the real thing - without guitars.
This one goes to 11
Next, we crafted a backstory. We had been rock stars in a fictitious, isolated and war-torn country (all forests gone, hence no wood for instruments). Our manager had run off and had stolen the copyright to our songs. He had sold our classic hits (such as “Stairway to Cheaven“ and “Joemp”) to bands like Van Halen and Led Zeppelin. They had become world-famous, with our music. When we found out, we fled the country and started touring Europe with a mission. To set the record straight: real stars don’t need wooden instruments.
The first club shows went well - the audience loved it. A soft-drink brand signed a sponsorship deal with us. TV commercials followed. We recorded our own songs and performed these on ever-bigger stages.
Two crazy years ensued - and we decided to go all-in. If we were going to pretend to be a larger-than-life rock band, we needed a matching lifestyle: more sets, crazier outfits, sound and light crew, limos, helicopters, and 10-page catering riders.
The crowds loved it - four guys giving their all and taking their private fantasies public. I mean, who hasn't played air guitar in front of the bedroom mirror? We went viral in a pre-digital world. Not because of a ‘content strategy’ or ‘owned media’ - but because of a story that resonated with people like us. And there were many of them.
We toured for two years and played dozens of festival shows - sharing the stage with our heroes. Some got the joke (Kaizers Orchestra, Queens of the Stone Age), others were deeply offended by us ‘ridiculing’ their craft (Misfits, Monster Magnet). Either way, we were living the dream - without a career or reputation to worry about.
The best compliment we ever got: after a gig for 50.000 people, someone told us we were the best cover band she’d ever seen. She said we were excellent musicians and that we “sounded exactly like the original record”. She hadn’t even noticed we were playing air instruments.
The Final Countdown
When we started out, we agreed to go all-in, for two years, and not a day longer. Being an imaginary rock star is very bad for your knees and does weird things to your worldview. You start thinking in Spinal Tap-quotes, for one:
"How far is all the way, and then if it stops, what's stopping it, and what's behind what's stopping it? So, what's the end, you know, is my question to you." (Derek Smalls)
So, 730 days after stumbling into this career, we played our farewell gig. In Oulu, Finland - home of the world air guitar championships.
We shared the stage with Lordi, who would go on to win the Eurovision Contest. (They got the joke too.)
After that show, we disbanded. I backpacked the world for two years. With the money that I had made selling hot air - and having the time of my life. Don’t underestimate the power of a good story.
The lessons here:
The stories we believe about ourselves shape our reality. We were rock stars for two years. Thousands of people went along with it. Some people even didn’t notice we didn’t play proper instruments.
Embrace serendipity. I joined the championships as a joke. But when I was on stage, I entered a state of flow. The day after, national tv called. The time was right for me to live my rock & roll fantasy - it was now or never.
(The Greeks had two words (& gods) for “time” - Chronos and Kairos. Chronos is sequential time and helps us bring order to events. Kairos is fluctuating time and the personification of flow and opportunity. Learn to distinguish between the two - and act as soon as you spot the latter.)
Ideas are nothing without execution. Everyone can have a good idea. Doing the work is what makes the difference. We practised daily, and we employed the best sound and light technicians we knew. Our medleys were produced by a top DJ. We practised each solo, every riff - before we tried to play it on air instruments. We rehearsed every move, every visual cue, every facial expression. We videotaped every show and did a debrief after each gig. Comedians know this too - being funny is no excuse for not being a pro.
Acting “as if”. The best remedy for stage fright, or any scary new venture: act as if you’ve done it a thousand times before. And that you have a routine for it, just like going to the office or walking the dog. Visualise the routine, and just follow it. Go through the motions. Your body magically relaxes into it, believing you’ve indeed done it many times before. Stories are a superpower.
Think big, act small. Even though we pretended we were rock demigods, we cared about the tiniest detail. We had tape on stage (invisible to the crowd) to remind us where our ‘amps’ were. We had a roadie to tune our invisible guitars prior to a show. We had customized backstage passes. We always carried guitar picks. At gigs, we only spoke broken English to one another and didn’t respond to our real names. God is in the details.
Boundaries create freedom. We had agreed to exist for two years, and not a day longer. This allowed us to go all in. We didn’t have to worry about the outcome or it overtaking our real musician careers. It was a project, with a start and end date. We gave our all, and then said goodbye. Now, 20 years later, I can look back at it as a peak experience, instead of a career that dwindled out.
Lots of love in, lots of love out. The energy you radiate comes back to you. This applies when you’re playing a festival crowd. And it applies when you’re shopping for groceries. When in doubt, be kind.
A QUOTE ON CHOOSING A WAY OF LIFE
"Beware of looking for goals: look for a way of life. Decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living within that way of life."
- Hunter S. Thompson (aged 22), in a letter to a friend.
Our goals will change as we gain experience. They will lose their appeal as we attain them. Choosing a way of life is a much more reliable compass.
THREE STORIES WORTH SHARING
Tim Shaddock was a man in a suit. Then he turned to the sea. Then a storm hit. He spent 90 days adrift, with only his dog, a LOT of sushi and a journal to keep him company. As my dog Roxy would call it: ruff.
Jim Arrington was born prematurely and was a sickly, asthmatic kid. So he started pumping weight. Meet the world’s oldest bodybuilder, aged 90 (and still going strong). His secret: outlasting everyone.
“I became a collie, fulfilling a dream I had since I was a little child to be an animal.” YouTuber Toco had a 15.000 EUR dog costume made (and it looks quite fetching). He now gets to go on walkies and rub paws with other dogs.
RECOMMENDATION ZONE
Kindness is something we can practice. Here’s a list of 50 ways to be ridiculously generous—and feel ridiculously good.
If you enjoy stories of people stumbling into good fortune or ideas, check out the Happy Accidents newsletter.
This summer, I’m exploring digital minimalism. As explained by Cal Newport: “intentionally and aggressively clearing away low-value digital noise, and optimizing your use of the tools that really matter.” Ctrl-Z.
BONUS: PEOPLE LIKE US LISTEN TO THINGS LIKE THIS
The newsletter’s growing fast - there are nearly a hundred of you now.
I’m honoured and grateful - it shows that you, like me, believe there is so much we can learn from the stories of others.
But perhaps we can also from each others’ playlists?
I’m taking a break from writing this August and will be exploring my first love: music.
The newsletter will be back in September. In the meantime, I’d LOVE to hear from you and more particularly: what’s a song you wish more people discovered?
I’ve created a Spotify playlist with unknown gems that I just can’t stop listening to. Comment below which song you would add, and I’ll add them as we go along.
What an incredible story! And what a two-year dream career. Loved that you offended the Misfits 😆