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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor always bore the weight of her parent’s legacy. As the daughter of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the most famous UK artists of the 1900s, Avril’s name was enveloped in the long shadows of history.

An Inaugural Recording

In recent months, I contemplated these memories as I got ready to record the first-ever recording of Avril’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. Boasting impassioned harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and valiant rhythms, her composition will provide new listeners fascinating insight into how this artist – an artist in conflict born in 1903 – envisioned her reality as a female composer of color.

Past and Present

However about legacies. It requires time to adapt, to perceive forms as they truly exist, to tell reality from misrepresentation, and I was reluctant to address Avril’s past for a while.

I deeply hoped the composer to be a reflection of her father. In some ways, that held. The pastoral English palettes of Samuel’s influence can be detected in many of her works, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to review the names of her family’s music to realize how he identified as not only a champion of UK romantic tradition but a representative of the African heritage.

It was here that father and daughter began to differ.

American society judged Samuel by the excellence of his art instead of the colour of his skin.

Family Background

During his studies at the prestigious music college, Samuel – the child of a Sierra Leonean father and a Caucasian parent – started to lean into his background. When the poet of color this literary figure arrived in England in the late 19th century, the 21-year-old composer eagerly sought him out. He composed this literary work to music and the following year adapted his verses for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Subsequently arrived the choral work that made him famous: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, this composition was an global success, notably for Black Americans who felt indirect honor as white America judged Samuel by the excellence of his art rather than the his background.

Principles and Actions

Recognition did not temper his activism. In 1900, he was present at the First Pan African Conference in England where he met the prominent scholar this influential figure and witnessed a series of speeches, including on the oppression of Black South Africans. He remained an advocate until the end. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights including this intellectual and this leader, gave addresses on equality for all, and even talked about matters of race with the American leader during an invitation to the White House in that year. Regarding his compositions, reminisced Du Bois, “he established his reputation so prominently as a composer that it will long be remembered.” He passed away in that year, at 37 years old. Yet how might Samuel have reacted to his daughter’s decision to work in South Africa in the 1950s?

Issues and Stance

“Daughter of Famous Composer shows support to South African policy,” ran a headline in the community journal Jet magazine. Apartheid “appeared to me the right policy”, Avril told Jet. Upon further questioning, she qualified her remarks: she did not support with apartheid “as a concept” and it “ought to be permitted to run its course, guided by benevolent residents of all races”. Were the composer more aligned to her father’s politics, or born in Jim Crow America, she might have thought twice about apartheid. Yet her life had sheltered her.

Heritage and Innocence

“I hold a English document,” she remarked, “and the authorities did not inquire me about my ethnicity.” Thus, with her “fair” appearance (as described), she floated alongside white society, lifted by their praise for her late father. She delivered a lecture about her family’s work at the educational institution and conducted the broadcasting ensemble in the city, including the heroic third movement of her concerto, subtitled: “In memory of my Father.” Even though a accomplished player on her own, she never played as the featured artist in her work. Rather, she always led as the conductor; and so the orchestra of the era performed under her direction.

The composer aspired, in her own words, she “might bring a transformation”. However, by that year, things fell apart. After authorities became aware of her mixed background, she could no longer stay the land. Her citizenship failed to safeguard her, the British high commissioner advised her to leave or be jailed. She went back to the UK, deeply ashamed as the magnitude of her inexperience was realized. “This experience was a hard one,” she lamented. Compounding her disgrace was the release in 1955 of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.

A Common Narrative

While I reflected with these memories, I sensed a known narrative. The narrative of identifying as British until you’re not – that brings to mind African-descended soldiers who fought on behalf of the British throughout the World War II and survived only to be not given their earned rewards. And the Windrush generation,