Abstract

The wind is our universal musician and has been recognized as such for millennia. If the wind can play a fence as an aeolian harp, then a violinist armed with a bow could also cause these gigantic structures to sing. Thus, an American woman and an Australian man set out to explore and perform on the giant musical instruments covering the continent of Australia: fences. This presentation excerpts highlights from the voyage, illuminating the range of sounds to be drawn out of a five-wire fence. Playing fences reveals a sound world that is embedded in the physical reality and the psyche of the culture. In pursuit of their instruments, including the Rabbit-Proof Fence and the 5300-kilometre–long Dingo Fence, the duo travels 40,000 kilometres, engaging with a singing dingo, an auctioneer, an Aboriginal gumleaf virtuoso, bush musicians, the first (now ruined) piano in Central Australia, and the School of the Air’s distorted, modulating, phasing white and pink electronic noise.
 
 PLEASE NOTE: there are four supplementary files that accompany this contribution. Click on the tab 'Supplementary Files' on the right hand side of the screen when accessing the pdf of the article.

Highlights

  • There’s someone you should meet, KB told me in Paris

  • It’s a little early ... [I was distracted by the six violins hanging above the grand piano on the wall behind him: blue, white, green, and original in colour, one had a sitar-like neck, another had double necks sharing a violin body, and yet another consisted of two violin bodies sharing a neck, Siamese twins of a sort.] We settled on wine

  • The lower three strands were again straightforward, the bottom wire sitting just an inch off the floor. Jon stamped on it with both feet as he moved along, giving new meaning to the term ‘walking bass.’. He bowed the fence and even violined it, meaning he ran an upside-down violin along the length of wire

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Summary

See supplementary file

Some five or even ten minutes after the fence event, causes the driver to slide into a bad mood for some hours, as turning around on unstable ground or reversing up a single-lane highway is potential cause for much anguish. This lady has an aversion to the past. Curious Aboriginal children flock to us as we design the where and how of our musical fence It sets me reflecting on how it might have been here when every feature of the landscape was woven into song. The great Australian songbook stretched back and forward in time

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