I carry power, sound, and fire, All through a single skinny line. What am I?

I am structure built on agricultural lands But also a salad full of crispy ingredients

I cut through blue sheets with ease, a wanderer on liquid plains, my heart beats to the rhythm of the oar's embrace.

Working here might make you want to take the malfunctioning printer out to a field and stomp all over it and smash it with a baseball bat.

In spaces bare, I add flair and grace, A finishing touch, in every place. Though I may hang, stand, or be still, It's the heart and soul I wish to fill.