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In this Student View column, Reed Williams ’20 shares how she’s discovered the possibilities of music scholarship — and the importance of elevating the histories of marginalized musicians.

by Reed Williams ’20

I fell in love with the field of musicology by accident. As a pianist and composer, I wanted to explore piano repertoire written by people who looked like me. Enrollment in Assistant Professor of Music Louis Epstein’s Introduction to Musicology course opened the door to realizing my performance goals through an exciting academic adventure — and an entirely unexpected career path.

My interest in musicology has enabled me to meet with experts in New York City’s Carnegie Hall, sift through documents in the archives of the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., and present at an American music conference before scholars from all across the U.S. And to top things off, all of this has led me to pursue a graduate degree in musicology after St. Olaf.

My interest in musicology has enabled me to meet with experts in New York City’s Carnegie Hall, sift through documents in the archives of the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., and present at an American music conference before scholars from all across the U.S. And to top things off, all of this has led me to pursue a graduate degree in musicology after St. Olaf.

So how did I get here? Well, what I tell people who ask about my last two years at St. Olaf is simple: “I was bitten by the musicology bug.”

The follow-up question they ask is usually some version of, “So what IS musicology?” To which I typically reply that even I am still learning about all there is to musicology. I like to think of it as a hybrid of music history and sociology, but I’m constantly learning the ways in which performance, fieldwork, archival research, and other disciplines all hold a stake in musicology. 

Mapping the musical legacy of H.T. Burleigh
After getting a taste for the field in Introduction to Musicology, my passion for musicology kicked into high gear when I was welcomed onto the Musical Geography Project team last January. Led by Professor Epstein, the Musical Geography Project uses map-centered investigations of music and musicians to change the way we think about music history. This work introduced me to the musical legacy of H.T. Burleigh, the H.T. Burleigh Society, and the expanding world of the digital humanities — an emerging field that uses online digital tools to enhance the work of humanities fields like philosophy, literature, or (music) history.

H.T. Burleigh was a composer, arranger, and singer who lived from 1866 to 1949. He is most well-known for inspiring the use of African-American spirituals in Antonín Dvořák’s symphony From the New World. However, outside of this reputation, Burleigh had notable influence on musicians across the world.

Most people have never heard of Burleigh or listened to his music, but that’s changing. Today, there are many musicians and scholars dedicated to spreading his legacy, programming his music, and promoting Burleigh’s musical mission. One such organization is the H.T. Burleigh Society, and Professor Epstein’s Musical Geography Project team had the opportunity to partner with them to create free, accessible tools to engage with Burleigh’s life. By participating in this project, student researchers had a chance to grant his legacy the spotlight it deserves — a spotlight that he hasn’t been afforded in part because he was a black man in Jim Crow America. 

My work on this team began last January as part of a directed undergraduate research (DUR) team of 12 students who worked closely with Professor Epstein to begin researching and mapping Burleigh’s work. Working on this project was different than anything I had experienced before. I loved it because we were doing so many different kinds of work. We read about the strengths and weaknesses of burgeoning digital humanities projects. We spent hours typing “H.T. Burleigh” and “Harry Thacker Burleigh” into digital newspaper archives and methodically combed through all of the results. We played around with digital humanities projects created by scholars across the globe for inspiration. And we reimagined Burleigh’s influence in a way never attempted before — through maps.

The H.T. Burleigh Society, an organization based in New York City, was so excited about the work of the Musical Geography team that they invited us to speak at their first conference at Carnegie Hall. I subsequently traveled to New York that March along with Professor Epstein and Isaiah Pressman ’19. We had the opportunity to meet and have great conversations with performers, Burleigh’s relatives, music scholars, and supporters of the Burleigh Society. For me, this conference modeled the kind of community I want to build around my research in the future. Everyone was so supportive of us, and excited for what future projects might accomplish.

The power of preserving history
I found this work fascinating, and I wanted to continue it after the DUR team concluded in January. So I joined Professor Epstein and Thea Brenner ’20 on a Collaborative Undergraduate Research and Inquiry (CURI) project over the summer with the goal of contextualizing America’s racial environment during Burleigh’s career. 

The most impactful part of my CURI experience was having the opportunity to do original archival research at Howard University and the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. In contrast to my work last January — where most of my time was spent looking for Burleigh data in online newspaper databases — working in the Library of Congress archives gave us the chance to get our hands dirty (literally!) by sifting through boxes and boxes of materials. The humdrum task of entering hundreds of data points into Google Sheets was a little more satisfying when those data points resulted from handling 100-year-old materials. 

Besides the novelty of being able to say “I did original archival research at the Library of Congress,” there is something deeply emotional about working with these materials. I got to hold the programs that people flipped through, and the ticket stubs that guided listeners to their seats for performances that music scholars currently deem as momentous historical moments. Because I was able to hold small pieces of history, I felt personally responsible to treat them with respect and contextualize them with integrity.

In order for materials to be preserved, people with resources or money need to think they are worth preserving — and only certain histories have been afforded that luxury. Moving forward in my career, this privilege will remain in the front of my mind as I work to preserve marginalized American musical stories.

The research we did in D.C. also taught me the importance of preservation and funding for institutions that hold archival materials. Howard University’s Moorland Spingarn Research Center houses so many wonderful collections — in particular, collections that relay priceless accounts of African-American history. Our project is indebted to the librarians, staff, and donors who keep local research centers like Howard’s open to the public. In order for materials to be preserved, people with resources or money need to think they are worth preserving — and only certain histories have been afforded that luxury. Moving forward in my career, this privilege will remain in the front of my mind as I work to preserve marginalized American musical stories. 

Sharing new insight with scholars
Throughout the summer, there were plenty of moments where we felt stuck in our research outside of archival digging. It felt like we had so much to accomplish, but we couldn’t decide what direction to take to get to the end. Both in D.C. and on campus, Thea and I discovered much more Burleigh-related material than we assumed we would. More to work with, and more to stress over. 

While at times that could be overwhelming, it was equally encouraging to know that there is nothing wrong with getting stuck on a task and putting it aside for a while. In fact, some of my best ideas came to fruition when I let them marinate in my mind for a few days without actively thinking about them. I got used to getting stuck, and I fully embraced it. It was during these times that Thea and I pushed ourselves to try different ways of working with and presenting the data. By the end of the summer, we created a full portfolio of our work for the Musical Geography website that contextualizes Burleigh’s career within the racial politics and segregationist geographies of his time.

The most rewarding part of the project was seeing people’s reactions to our maps. People who have never heard of Burleigh before can play with our maps and learn about his impact on the lives of iconic musicians like Marian Anderson or Paul Robeson. But to me, the coolest thing was showing our maps to Burleigh scholars — people who have devoted their whole lives to learning about Burleigh — and hearing that even they learned something new about Burleigh just from visualizing his life differently. That’s the real beauty of our maps. There is so much to learn from pinpointing his influence.

The coolest thing was showing our maps to Burleigh scholars — people who have devoted their whole lives to learning about Burleigh — and hearing that even they learned something new about Burleigh just from visualizing his life differently. That’s the real beauty of our maps. There is so much to learn from pinpointing his influence.

A future in musicology
My work to share Burleigh’s story continues. As I am writing, I am finishing up an internship with the H.T. Burleigh Society — a relationship I have cherished since attending a musicology lecture by Dr. Marti Slaten, one of its founders, when she visited St. Olaf in the fall of my junior year. For the last month, I have worked with the society to improve their online presence and link some of the work I’ve done at St. Olaf to their site and make it accessible to Burleigh scholars around the world. This March, I will present some of this research at the Society for American Music conference, where I hope to make the Burleigh Society team proud.

I’ve gotten a taste of the possibilities of music scholarship — and how I can use my platform as a black pianist to elevate the histories of musicians who inspire me. Because of the connections I’ve made through CURI and independent research programs, I am inspired now more than ever to share marginalized stories with my work.

At times, I have felt out of place in St. Olaf’s Music Department. I am one of few students of color in the Music Department, let alone instrumentalists of color. As a bachelor of music major with an interdisciplinary elective encompassing race and ethnic studies, I’ve gotten a taste of the possibilities of music scholarship — and how I can use my platform as a black pianist to elevate the histories of musicians who inspire me. Because of the connections I’ve made through CURI and independent research programs, I am inspired now more than ever to share marginalized stories with my work. I can’t wait to share the musicology bug with others — the sky seems to be the limit from here.