🔗 Share this article

This talented musician constantly bore the pressure of her parent’s heritage. As the daughter of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the prominent English artists of the turn of the 20th century, her reputation was shrouded in the lingering obscurity of bygone eras.

A World Premiere

Earlier this year, I reflected on these legacies as I prepared to produce the world premiere recording of her concerto for piano composed in 1936. With its emotional harmonies, soulful lyricism, and bold rhythms, her composition will grant new listeners fascinating insight into how she – a wartime composer born in 1903 – conceived of her reality as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

But here’s the thing about shadows. It can take a while to adjust, to see shapes as they really are, to separate fact from distortion, and I was reluctant to address the composer’s background for a period.

I had so wanted Avril to be a reflection of her father. To some extent, this was true. The pastoral English palettes of her father’s impact can be detected in numerous compositions, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to examine the headings of her parent’s works to understand how he viewed himself as not only a flag bearer of UK romantic tradition as well as a advocate of the African diaspora.

It was here that Samuel and Avril began to differ.

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

Family Background

As a student at the renowned institution, her father – the son of a African father and a white English mother – started to lean into his background. At the time the African American poet this literary figure arrived in England in 1897, the young musician was keen to meet him. He set Dunbar’s African Romances as a composition and the next year used the poet’s words for a musical work, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral composition that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an worldwide sensation, particularly among African Americans who felt indirect honor as white America assessed his work by the excellence of his compositions instead of the his background.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Recognition did not reduce his activism. In 1900, he was present at the pioneering African conference in England where he made the acquaintance of the prominent scholar the renowned Du Bois and saw a variety of discussions, covering the oppression of Black South Africans. He was an activist throughout his life. He kept connections with early civil rights leaders like the scholar and the educator Washington, delivered his own speeches on racial equality, and even engaged in dialogue on matters of race with President Theodore Roosevelt while visiting to the White House in 1904. Regarding his compositions, the scholar reflected, “he established his reputation so notably as a musician that it will long be remembered.” He died in that year, aged 37. Yet how might Samuel have reacted to his offspring’s move to work in South Africa in the 1950s?

Issues and Stance

“Daughter of Famous Composer gives OK to apartheid system,” appeared as a heading in the Black American publication Jet magazine. Apartheid “struck me as the appropriate course”, Avril told Jet. When pushed to clarify, she revised her statement: she was not in favor with the system “as a concept” and it “ought to be permitted to resolve itself, directed by well-meaning residents of diverse ethnicities”. If Avril had been more aligned to her parent’s beliefs, or born in Jim Crow America, she could have hesitated about this system. Yet her life had shielded her.

Background and Inexperience

“I have a English document,” she remarked, “and the officials failed to question me about my race.” So, with her “fair” complexion (according to the magazine), she moved within European circles, supported by their praise for her renowned family member. She presented about her family’s work at the Cape Town university and directed the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in that location, featuring the bold final section of her concerto, subtitled: “In remembrance of my Father.” Although a accomplished player personally, she never played as the featured artist in her work. Instead, she always led as the conductor; and so the segregated ensemble followed her lead.

The composer aspired, according to her, she “could introduce a change”. Yet in the mid-1950s, the situation collapsed. Once officials learned of her Black ancestry, she had to depart the nation. Her British passport failed to safeguard her, the British high commissioner urged her to go or face arrest. She went back to the UK, feeling great shame as the magnitude of her innocence became clear. “The realization was a difficult one,” she expressed. Increasing her humiliation was the 1955 publication of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her forced leaving from the country.

A Recurring Theme

Upon contemplating with these memories, I sensed a recurring theme. The narrative of holding UK citizenship until it’s challenged – one that calls to mind African-descended soldiers who fought on behalf of the English throughout the global conflict and survived only to be denied their due compensation. Including those from Windrush,