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Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly experienced the weight of her parent’s legacy. As the daughter of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, one of the prominent UK artists of the 1900s, Avril’s reputation was shrouded in the lingering obscurity of bygone eras.

An Inaugural Recording

In recent months, I sat with these legacies as I prepared to make the inaugural album of Avril’s 1936 piano concerto. With its impassioned harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and confident beats, her composition will provide music lovers valuable perspective into how she – an artist in conflict who entered the world in 1903 – imagined her existence as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

However about shadows. It can take a while to adjust, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to tell reality from misinterpretation, and I had been afraid to confront her history for a period.

I earnestly desired her to be following in her father’s footsteps. Partially, this was true. The rustic British sounds of Samuel’s influence can be observed in several pieces, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to examine the names of her parent’s works to realize how he heard himself as not just a champion of English Romanticism but a voice of the African diaspora.

It was here that father and daughter seemed to diverge.

American society judged Samuel by the mastery of his art as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Family Background

During his studies at the prestigious music college, the composer – the child of a African father and a British mother – turned toward his background. At the time the poet of color the renowned Dunbar came to London in 1897, the young musician eagerly sought him out. He set the poet’s African Romances to music and the following year incorporated his poetry for an opera, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral composition that put Samuel on the map: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an worldwide sensation, especially with the Black community who felt vicarious pride as white America judged Samuel by the brilliance of his compositions instead of the colour of his skin.

Principles and Actions

Success failed to diminish Samuel’s politics. At the turn of the century, he attended the initial Pan African gathering in England where he encountered the Black American thinker WEB Du Bois and observed a variety of discussions, covering the mistreatment of the Black community there. He was an activist to his final days. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights including Du Bois and this leader, gave addresses on racial equality, and even engaged in dialogue on racial problems with the American leader during an invitation to the presidential residence in 1904. In terms of his art, Du Bois recalled, “he made his mark so prominently as a composer that it will endure.” He died in that year, at 37 years old. Yet how might Samuel have thought of his offspring’s move to travel to the African nation in the that decade?

Conflict and Policy

“Daughter of Famous Composer shows support to South African policy,” appeared as a heading in the African American magazine Jet magazine. This policy “seems to me the correct approach”, Avril told Jet. When pushed to clarify, she backtracked: she did not support with the system “in principle” and it “could be left to work itself out, guided by benevolent people of all races”. Had Avril been more aligned to her family’s principles, or from Jim Crow America, she could have hesitated about this system. But life had sheltered her.

Heritage and Innocence

“I have a British passport,” she said, “and the officials did not inquire me about my race.” Therefore, with her “fair” complexion (according to the magazine), she moved among the Europeans, buoyed up by their acclaim for her late father. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the Cape Town university and conducted the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in Johannesburg, featuring the bold final section of her Piano Concerto, subtitled: “In remembrance of my Father.” Although a skilled pianist personally, she avoided playing as the lead performer in her piece. Rather, she always led as the leader; and so the orchestra of the era performed under her direction.

Avril hoped, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. But by 1954, things fell apart. When government agents became aware of her African heritage, she could no longer stay the country. Her British passport didn’t protect her, the British high commissioner advised her to leave or risk imprisonment. She came home, deeply ashamed as the magnitude of her innocence was realized. “The lesson was a hard one,” she lamented. Compounding her embarrassment was the 1955 publication of her controversial discussion, a year after her unceremonious exit from that nation.

A Familiar Story

As I sat with these legacies, I sensed a familiar story. The account of holding UK citizenship until it’s revoked – one that calls to mind African-descended soldiers who defended the British throughout the World War II and made it through but were denied their due compensation. Including those from Windrush,