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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly experienced the pressure of her family reputation. Being the child of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the most famous English musicians of the 1900s, Avril’s reputation was enveloped in the lingering obscurity of history.

The First Recording

In recent months, I reflected on these shadows as I made arrangements to produce the inaugural album of the composer’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. With its emotional harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and confident beats, her composition will offer new listeners valuable perspective into how the composer – a composer during war born in 1903 – imagined her existence as a woman of colour.

Past and Present

Yet about legacies. It requires time to acclimate, to recognize outlines as they actually appear, to separate fact from distortion, and I was reluctant to address her history for a while.

I had so wanted Avril to be a reflection of her father. To some extent, this was true. The pastoral English palettes of Samuel’s influence can be observed in several pieces, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to examine the names of her parent’s works to understand how he viewed himself as both a standard-bearer of British Romantic style as well as a representative of the African diaspora.

This was where father and daughter seemed to diverge.

American society judged Samuel by the brilliance of his compositions rather than the colour of his skin.

Parental Heritage

During his studies at the Royal College of Music, Samuel – the offspring of a African father and a British mother – started to lean into his African roots. When the African American poet the renowned Dunbar visited the UK in 1897, the aspiring artist was keen to meet him. He adapted Dunbar’s African Romances into music and the following year used the poet’s words for an opera, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral piece that made him famous: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an worldwide sensation, particularly among the Black community who felt vicarious pride as white America judged Samuel by the quality of his art as opposed to the his race.

Principles and Actions

Recognition did not temper Samuel’s politics. During that period, he was present at the First Pan African Conference in London where he met the prominent scholar WEB Du Bois and observed a series of speeches, including on the oppression of Black South Africans. He was a campaigner until the end. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights like Du Bois and this leader, delivered his own speeches on ending discrimination, and even discussed matters of race with the American leader on a trip to the White House in that year. As for his music, reminisced Du Bois, “he made his mark so prominently as a musician that it will long be remembered.” He died in that year, at 37 years old. However, how would her father have made of his daughter’s decision to be in the African nation in the mid-20th century?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Offspring of Renowned Musician expresses approval to S African Bias,” declared a title in the Black American publication Jet magazine. This policy “appeared to me the correct approach”, the composer stated Jet. When asked to explain, she backtracked: she didn’t agree with apartheid “as a concept” and it “should be allowed to run its course, overseen by good-intentioned people of diverse ethnicities”. If Avril had been more attuned to her family’s principles, or raised in segregated America, she could have hesitated about the policy. Yet her life had shielded her.

Identity and Naivety

“I hold a British passport,” she stated, “and the authorities failed to question me about my race.” Therefore, with her “fair” skin (as described), she moved alongside white society, lifted by their acclaim for her renowned family member. She delivered a lecture about her family’s work at the educational institution and conducted the national orchestra in the city, programming the bold final section of her composition, subtitled: “Dedicated to my Father.” While a accomplished player herself, she never played as the lead performer in her work. Instead, she invariably directed as the maestro; and so the segregated ensemble followed her lead.

She desired, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. But by 1954, the situation collapsed. After authorities became aware of her Black ancestry, she was forced to leave the nation. Her British passport offered no defense, the UK representative urged her to go or risk imprisonment. She went back to the UK, feeling great shame as the scale of her innocence was realized. “This experience was a painful one,” she lamented. Adding to her embarrassment was the 1955 publication of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her unceremonious exit from the country.

A Common Narrative

While I reflected with these memories, I sensed a recurring theme. The story of identifying as British until you’re not – one that calls to mind African-descended soldiers who served for the UK in the global conflict and lived only to be not given their earned rewards. Along with the Windrush era,