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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor continually felt the pressure of her parent’s heritage. As the offspring of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the prominent British composers of the early 20th century, Avril’s identity was cloaked in the long shadows of history.

An Inaugural Recording

Earlier this year, I reflected on these shadows as I got ready to make the first-ever recording of Avril’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. With its emotional harmonies, expressive melodies, and bold rhythms, this piece will offer music lovers valuable perspective into how she – a wartime composer who entered the world in 1903 – imagined her reality as a female composer of color.

Past and Present

Yet about shadows. One needs patience to adjust, to recognize outlines as they truly exist, to distinguish truth from misinterpretation, and I was reluctant to confront Avril’s past for some time.

I had so wanted Avril to be a reflection of her father. Partially, that held. The pastoral English palettes of parental inspiration can be heard in numerous compositions, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to review the headings of her family’s music to understand how he identified as not only a flag bearer of UK romantic tradition as well as a advocate of the African diaspora.

At this point father and daughter seemed to diverge.

American society evaluated Samuel by the excellence of his music as opposed to the his racial background.

Family Background

While he was studying at the prestigious music college, the composer – the offspring of a parent from Sierra Leone and a Caucasian parent – turned toward his background. At the time the poet of color the renowned Dunbar came to London in that era, the young musician actively pursued him. He adapted Dunbar’s African Romances as a composition and the following year adapted his verses for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral composition that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an worldwide sensation, notably for the Black community who felt indirect honor as white America evaluated the composer by the brilliance of his compositions instead of the his race.

Activism and Politics

Fame failed to diminish Samuel’s politics. During that period, he was present at the First Pan African Conference in the UK where he made the acquaintance of the prominent scholar this influential figure and saw a variety of discussions, including on the mistreatment of Black South Africans. He remained an advocate until the end. He sustained relationships with early civil rights leaders including this intellectual and the educator Washington, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even discussed racial problems with President Theodore Roosevelt during an invitation to the White House in the early 1900s. Regarding his compositions, Du Bois recalled, “he wrote his name so prominently as a creative artist that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He passed away in the early 20th century, at 37 years old. But what would the composer have thought of his daughter’s decision to work in the African nation in the 1950s?

Conflict and Policy

“Child of Celebrated Artist expresses approval to apartheid system,” declared a title in the African American magazine Jet magazine. The system “seems to me the appropriate course”, she informed Jet. Upon further questioning, she backtracked: she did not support with this policy “as a concept” and it “should be allowed to run its course, overseen by benevolent residents of all races”. Had Avril been more attuned to her parent’s beliefs, or raised in segregated America, she may have reconsidered about this system. Yet her life had sheltered her.

Identity and Naivety

“I have a UK passport,” she stated, “and the government agents failed to question me about my ethnicity.” Thus, with her “porcelain-white” appearance (according to the magazine), she floated alongside white society, supported by their admiration for her late father. She presented about her parent’s compositions at the University of Cape Town and directed the broadcasting ensemble in Johannesburg, featuring the bold final section of her concerto, titled: “Dedicated to my Father.” While a accomplished player personally, she did not perform as the featured artist in her concerto. Instead, she invariably directed as the leader; and so the apartheid orchestra followed her lead.

She desired, in her own words, she “could introduce a transformation”. Yet in the mid-1950s, circumstances deteriorated. Once officials discovered her mixed background, she had to depart the country. Her British passport failed to safeguard her, the diplomatic official recommended her departure or be jailed. She came home, feeling great shame as the scale of her inexperience was realized. “The lesson was a hard one,” she expressed. Increasing her embarrassment was the printing that year of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her forced leaving from South Africa.

A Common Narrative

Upon contemplating with these shadows, I perceived a familiar story. The narrative of identifying as British until it’s challenged – one that calls to mind African-descended soldiers who served for the UK in the second world war and survived only to be refused rightful benefits. Along with the Windrush era,