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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor continually bore the burden of her father’s heritage. As the offspring of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, one of the prominent British musicians of the 1900s, the composer’s identity was shrouded in the deep shadows of the past.

The First Recording

In recent months, I sat with these shadows as I prepared to produce the first-ever recording of Avril’s 1936 piano concerto. With its impassioned harmonies, soulful lyricism, and confident beats, this piece will offer audiences deep understanding into how the composer – a wartime composer originating from the early 1900s – conceived of her reality as a artist with mixed heritage.

Past and Present

Yet about shadows. One needs patience to adjust, to perceive forms as they truly exist, to separate fact from distortion, and I was reluctant to confront the composer’s background for some time.

I earnestly desired the composer to be her father’s daughter. To some extent, this was true. The idyllic English tones of Samuel’s influence can be heard in many of her works, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). However, one need only review the names of her family’s music to see how he viewed himself as both a standard-bearer of English Romanticism as well as a representative of the Black diaspora.

This was where parent and child began to differ.

The United States judged Samuel by the brilliance of his music as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Samuel’s African Roots

While he was studying at the prestigious music college, her father – the offspring of a parent from Sierra Leone and a Caucasian parent – turned toward his heritage. At the time the poet of color Paul Laurence Dunbar came to London in that era, the 21-year-old composer actively pursued him. He composed Dunbar’s African Romances into music and the subsequent year used the poet’s words for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral piece that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an worldwide sensation, particularly among Black Americans who felt shared pride as the majority evaluated the composer by the quality of his music as opposed to the his race.

Activism and Politics

Recognition failed to diminish Samuel’s politics. During that period, he was present at the pioneering African conference in the UK where he met the African American intellectual this influential figure and observed a range of talks, including on the mistreatment of the Black community there. He was a campaigner until the end. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights including Du Bois and Booker T Washington, gave addresses on equality for all, and even engaged in dialogue on issues of racism with President Theodore Roosevelt on a trip to the White House in the early 1900s. In terms of his art, the scholar reflected, “he established his reputation so high as a creative artist that it will endure.” He succumbed in that year, at 37 years old. But what would Samuel have reacted to his offspring’s move to work in this country in the mid-20th century?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Offspring of Renowned Musician shows support to apartheid system,” declared a title in the African American magazine Jet magazine. Apartheid “appeared to me the right policy”, Avril told Jet. Upon further questioning, she revised her statement: she did not support with the system “as a concept” and it “ought to be permitted to run its course, guided by benevolent South Africans of all races”. If Avril had been more in tune to her family’s principles, or from Jim Crow America, she might have thought twice about the policy. However, existence had shielded her.

Heritage and Innocence

“I have a UK passport,” she remarked, “and the government agents never asked me about my ethnicity.” Thus, with her “light” complexion (as described), she moved among the Europeans, supported by their acclaim for her late father. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the University of Cape Town and directed the broadcasting ensemble in the city, programming the inspiring part of her composition, named: “In memory of my Father.” Although a accomplished player herself, she did not perform as the lead performer in her piece. On the contrary, she consistently conducted as the leader; and so the orchestra of the era followed her lead.

She desired, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. But by 1954, things fell apart. Once officials discovered her Black ancestry, she was forced to leave the nation. Her citizenship failed to safeguard her, the diplomatic official recommended her departure or risk imprisonment. She returned to England, deeply ashamed as the extent of her innocence became clear. “The realization was a hard one,” she stated. Adding to her disgrace was the 1955 publication of her controversial discussion, a year after her forced leaving from South Africa.

A Familiar Story

Upon contemplating with these shadows, I sensed a recurring theme. The narrative of being British until it’s revoked – one that calls to mind troops of color who served for the UK during the World War II and lived only to be denied their due compensation. Including those from Windrush,