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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor always experienced the burden of her father’s reputation. As the daughter of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the best-known UK musicians of the early 20th century, her name was cloaked in the long shadows of bygone eras.

An Inaugural Recording

Not long ago, I reflected on these legacies as I prepared to record the inaugural album of the composer’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. Boasting emotional harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and valiant rhythms, Avril’s work will provide audiences fascinating insight into how she – a composer during war originating from the early 1900s – imagined her existence as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

But here’s the thing about the past. One needs patience to acclimate, to recognize outlines as they actually appear, to tell reality from misrepresentation, and I was reluctant to confront her history for a while.

I deeply hoped Avril to be following in her father’s footsteps. In some ways, this was true. The idyllic English tones of parental inspiration can be observed in numerous compositions, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to examine the titles of her family’s music to see how he viewed himself as not only a flag bearer of English Romanticism as well as a advocate of the African heritage.

This was where Samuel and Avril began to differ.

The United States evaluated Samuel by the mastery of his art as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Parental Heritage

As a student at the prestigious music college, her father – the child of a parent from Sierra Leone and a white English mother – began embracing his background. When the Black American writer Paul Laurence Dunbar came to London in 1897, the 21-year-old composer eagerly sought him out. He composed this literary work into music and the next year used the poet’s words for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that put Samuel on the map: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an worldwide sensation, notably for African Americans who felt indirect honor as the majority evaluated the composer by the brilliance of his compositions as opposed to the his background.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Success did not temper Samuel’s politics. At the turn of the century, he attended the initial Pan African gathering in the UK where he made the acquaintance of the Black American thinker WEB Du Bois and saw a series of speeches, covering the subjugation of African people in South Africa. He was a campaigner until the end. He kept connections with early civil rights leaders such as the scholar and Booker T Washington, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even discussed matters of race with the US President during an invitation to the presidential residence in the early 1900s. In terms of his art, reminisced Du Bois, “he established his reputation so notably as a creative artist that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He died in that year, in his thirties. However, how would her father have reacted to his daughter’s decision to work in this country in the mid-20th century?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Offspring of Renowned Musician shows support to apartheid system,” appeared as a heading in the community journal Jet magazine. The system “appeared to me the right policy”, the composer stated Jet. Upon further questioning, she qualified her remarks: she didn’t agree with this policy “as a concept” and it “could be left to resolve itself, directed by well-meaning residents of all races”. Had Avril been more in tune to her family’s principles, or born in segregated America, she may have reconsidered about the policy. But life had shielded her.

Heritage and Innocence

“I have a UK passport,” she remarked, “and the authorities did not inquire me about my background.” So, with her “fair” complexion (according to the magazine), she moved alongside white society, supported by their admiration for her deceased parent. She delivered a lecture about her father’s music at the educational institution and conducted the national orchestra in the city, programming the bold final section of her concerto, named: “In memory of my Father.” Even though a skilled pianist on her own, she did not perform as the soloist in her piece. On the contrary, she always led as the conductor; and so the apartheid orchestra played under her baton.

She desired, according to her, she “might bring a change”. However, by that year, things fell apart. When government agents discovered her African heritage, she was forced to leave the nation. Her citizenship offered no defense, the UK representative advised her to leave or face arrest. She went back to the UK, feeling great shame as the extent of her innocence dawned. “The lesson was a difficult one,” she stated. Adding to her humiliation was the printing that year of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.

A Common Narrative

Upon contemplating with these memories, I perceived a familiar story. The account of identifying as British until it’s revoked – one that calls to mind African-descended soldiers who fought on behalf of the English throughout the global conflict and lived only to be not given their earned rewards. Along with the Windrush era,