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“Australia Marches On!” Changing Attitudes to War in Australian Song, 1914 – Present

1/4/2015

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The music of a country, and in particular its native song, has long been acknowledged as giving insight into the traditions, origins and socio-cultural attitudes of the people of that country. A collection of little-performed Australian Song, much of it sourced from the archives of the National Library of Australia (NLA), gives a valuable new perspective from which to examine the evolution of social ideas in a youthful nation, specifically when focused upon a topic as emotive and profound as war.

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Way back when I was doing my degree (feels like a lifetime ago, but it was really only 5 years hence) I wrote my Honours thesis on reflections of our national psyche as painted through song – specifically songs written by Australians, and which had not yet been recorded. The National Library of Australia was kind enough to give me access to its archives, and it was quite an adventure for me delving into our musical history.

Sometimes it was outright hilarious, sometimes offputtingly racist and sexist (as one would imagine, going back up to 100 years and dealing with international hostilities and the breakdown of gender norms - particularly through the Second World War when women were asked to move into new roles on the Home Front). Sometimes of course it was heartbreakingly sad, and I do have memories of cursing myself for committing most of a year’s worth of study to such a topic after I broke down crying over a history textbook one afternoon in 2010. The resultant selection of pieces runs the gamut from WWI marching and music hall songs (one of which was sung by our troops on not one but TWO torpedoed ships AS THEY WERE SINKING), through to pieces composed by prisoners of war in Changi POW camp, and contemporary art song by people who lived through WWII, as well as by those who came after.


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It was, and remains, a topic close to my heart and as such I was thrilled to have the chance during the Gallipoli Centenary to “get my nerd on” and present a lecture recital for the National Library of Australia in Canberra, with an expanded musical program. It was kept as an intimate affair in the lovely marble foyer of the Library, and combined with a private viewing of the NLA’s “Keepsakes” exhibition (of private memorabilia from WWI).

Afterward I was surprised, but very gratified, when an audience member told me how angry the concert had made him. Obviously I can’t afford to be preaching personal opinions in that context and kept my lecture as historical and neutral as I could, but it was great to know that others were also stirred by the intensity of the propaganda in much of the music before mid-century, and by the tragedy of it all, just as I had been when preparing it.

I was also deeply honoured to have a tall, dignified elderly gentleman come to speak with me afterwards. He was a veteran who had served in Korea, and shook my hand to thank me, saying that he had been moved almost to tears.

You know, I’m sure much of this blog sounds annoyingly, breathlessly earnest and overenthusiastic (in great part because certain parts of oneself need to be censored on the internet). But believe me when I say I am regularly humbled by this job, or rather by the reaction to it. I am not a patriot by any stretch of the definition…..but to be able to be of service to, and do something special for someone who has served our country in that way….. and to be thanked by HIM? Yup, humbled.


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    ____ In 2005 I found myself in London, broke, constantly sick, and working in a job I hated. I had dropped out of Uni and run away from Australia years earlier, and had had a mind-boggling succession of actually-I'm-not-going-to-share-them-on-a-professional website adventures. But I looked up one day and realised I really wasn't happy with my life. "So if you're going to change things," I asked myself, "what is the dearest dream you once had? What is it worth turning everything around for?"

    I had chronic pain from (unbeknownst to me) dislocated bones; both my lungs and my throat were compromised. I smoked a pack a day. I hadn't worn an evening gown since my Year 12 formal and couldn't really walk in heels. I didn't read music, and had never sung an aria, nor studied music at school. But I knew what I wanted: I wanted to serve the muse. Bit mad, really.

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