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Avril Coleridge-Taylor always experienced the burden of her father’s legacy. As the daughter of the renowned Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the prominent English composers of the early 20th century, Avril’s name was enveloped in the long shadows of the past.

The First Recording

Not long ago, I sat with these memories as I prepared to produce the first-ever recording of Avril’s 1936 piano concerto. Featuring emotional harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and confident beats, this piece will provide music lovers valuable perspective into how she – an artist in conflict originating from the early 1900s – conceived of her reality as a woman of colour.

Past and Present

However about legacies. One needs patience to adjust, to see shapes as they really are, to tell reality from distortion, and I had been afraid to confront the composer’s background for some time.

I earnestly desired Avril to be a reflection of her father. To some extent, she was. The pastoral English palettes of Samuel’s influence can be detected in numerous compositions, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to look at the headings of her parent’s works to realize how he identified as not just a champion of British Romantic style but a voice of the African diaspora.

This was where Samuel and Avril seemed to diverge.

The United States evaluated Samuel by the excellence of his music rather than the colour of his skin.

Family Background

While he was studying at the renowned institution, the composer – the child of a African father and a Caucasian parent – turned toward his background. At the time the poet of color this literary figure arrived in England in that era, the young musician was keen to meet him. He set Dunbar’s African Romances to music and the subsequent year used the poet’s words for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral composition that made him famous: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an worldwide sensation, notably for the Black community who felt vicarious pride as the majority judged Samuel by the quality of his music rather than the his race.

Principles and Actions

Recognition did not reduce his activism. At the turn of the century, he participated in the First Pan African Conference in the UK where he encountered the prominent scholar the renowned Du Bois and saw a series of speeches, such as the mistreatment of African people in South Africa. He remained an advocate until the end. He kept connections with early civil rights leaders like Du Bois and the educator Washington, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even engaged in dialogue on issues of racism with the US President while visiting to the White House in 1904. Regarding his compositions, reminisced Du Bois, “he made his mark so prominently as a creative artist that it will endure.” He passed away in that year, at 37 years old. Yet how might Samuel have thought of his child’s choice to be in the African nation in the 1950s?

Conflict and Policy

“Offspring of Renowned Musician gives OK to S African Bias,” appeared as a heading in the Black American publication Jet magazine. The system “appeared to me the right policy”, Avril told Jet. Upon further questioning, she backtracked: she was not in favor with this policy “as a concept” and it “could be left to work itself out, overseen by well-meaning people of all races”. If Avril had been more in tune to her father’s politics, or born in the US under segregation, she may have reconsidered about apartheid. Yet her life had sheltered her.

Identity and Naivety

“I possess a UK passport,” she stated, “and the authorities never asked me about my background.” Thus, with her “light” appearance (according to the magazine), she floated alongside white society, buoyed up by their acclaim for her renowned family member. She delivered a lecture about her parent’s compositions at the Cape Town university and led the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in the city, featuring the inspiring part of her concerto, named: “In memory of my Father.” Although a confident pianist personally, she did not perform as the soloist in her concerto. Instead, she always led as the maestro; and so the orchestra of the era performed under her direction.

She desired, in her own words, she “might bring a shift”. But by 1954, the situation collapsed. When government agents learned of her Black ancestry, she was forced to leave the nation. Her UK document offered no defense, the UK representative recommended her departure or risk imprisonment. She returned to England, deeply ashamed as the scale of her inexperience dawned. “The lesson was a painful one,” she lamented. Compounding her embarrassment was the release in 1955 of her controversial discussion, a year after her forced leaving from that nation.

A Recurring Theme

While I reflected with these memories, I sensed a familiar story. The narrative of holding UK citizenship until you’re not – that brings to mind African-descended soldiers who fought on behalf of the English throughout the World War II and made it through but were not given their earned rewards. And the Windrush generation,