🔗 Share this article

Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly felt the burden of her father’s reputation. As the daughter of the renowned Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the best-known English musicians of the early 20th century, Avril’s reputation was shrouded in the long shadows of bygone eras.

The First Recording

Earlier this year, I sat with these shadows as I made arrangements to record the world premiere recording of the composer’s piano concerto from 1936. Featuring emotional harmonies, soulful lyricism, and confident beats, this piece will provide new listeners fascinating insight into how the composer – a composer during war who entered the world in 1903 – conceived of her existence as a female composer of color.

Shadows and Truth

But here’s the thing about legacies. It requires time to adapt, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to tell reality from misinterpretation, and I was reluctant to address the composer’s background for some time.

I earnestly desired Avril to be her father’s daughter. To some extent, that held. The pastoral English palettes of Samuel’s influence can be observed in numerous compositions, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). However, one need only look at the names of her parent’s works to realize how he identified as not only a standard-bearer of UK romantic tradition as well as a representative of the African heritage.

At this point Samuel and Avril seemed to diverge.

White America evaluated Samuel by the brilliance of his music rather than the his ethnicity.

Parental Heritage

As a student at the Royal College of Music, her father – the son of a African father and a British mother – began embracing his African roots. At the time the African American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar came to London in that era, the aspiring artist actively pursued him. He adapted this literary work into music and the subsequent year incorporated his poetry for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an international hit, especially with African Americans who felt vicarious pride as American society judged Samuel by the quality of his art as opposed to the his background.

Principles and Actions

Recognition failed to diminish Samuel’s politics. At the turn of the century, he was present at the initial Pan African gathering in England where he met the African American intellectual this influential figure and observed a variety of discussions, such as the subjugation of Black South Africans. He remained an advocate throughout his life. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights such as Du Bois and Booker T Washington, spoke publicly on racial equality, and even engaged in dialogue on matters of race with the American leader on a trip to the presidential residence in the early 1900s. Regarding his compositions, reminisced Du Bois, “he established his reputation so prominently as a musician that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He succumbed in 1912, aged 37. However, how would the composer have made of his offspring’s move to travel to South Africa in the mid-20th century?

Conflict and Policy

“Offspring of Renowned Musician shows support to South African policy,” appeared as a heading in the community journal Jet magazine. The system “struck me as the right policy”, Avril told Jet. When pushed to clarify, she qualified her remarks: she was not in favor with apartheid “in principle” and it “ought to be permitted to work itself out, overseen by well-meaning people of diverse ethnicities”. If Avril had been more in tune to her parent’s beliefs, or from segregated America, she may have reconsidered about this system. However, existence had shielded her.

Identity and Naivety

“I have a UK passport,” she remarked, “and the government agents never asked me about my race.” So, with her “fair” complexion (as Jet put it), she traveled within European circles, supported by their acclaim for her deceased parent. She presented about her parent’s compositions at the University of Cape Town and led the broadcasting ensemble in the city, featuring the inspiring part of her Piano Concerto, titled: “In remembrance of my Father.” Even though a confident pianist personally, she avoided playing as the soloist in her concerto. Rather, she always led as the leader; and so the segregated ensemble performed under her direction.

The composer aspired, according to her, she “may foster a shift”. However, by that year, the situation collapsed. When government agents discovered her Black ancestry, she had to depart the land. Her citizenship offered no defense, the UK representative advised her to leave or be jailed. She returned to England, embarrassed as the extent of her innocence dawned. “This experience was a painful one,” she lamented. Compounding her humiliation was the release in 1955 of her controversial discussion, a year after her unceremonious exit from the country.

A Recurring Theme

While I reflected with these legacies, I perceived a known narrative. The account of identifying as British until it’s challenged – which recalls African-descended soldiers who served for the UK in the global conflict and made it through but were not given their earned rewards. Including those from Windrush,