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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor always experienced the weight of her father’s reputation. As the daughter of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the best-known British composers of the turn of the 20th century, the composer’s reputation was shrouded in the lingering obscurity of bygone eras.

The First Recording

Not long ago, I reflected on these shadows as I got ready to record the world premiere recording of the composer’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. Featuring intense musical themes, expressive melodies, and valiant rhythms, this piece will grant audiences valuable perspective into how the composer – a wartime composer who entered the world in 1903 – conceived of her reality as a artist with mixed heritage.

Legacy and Reality

But here’s the thing about the past. It can take a while to adjust, to see shapes as they truly exist, to tell reality from misrepresentation, and I was reluctant to face her history for some time.

I earnestly desired her to be following in her father’s footsteps. To some extent, she was. The pastoral English palettes of Samuel’s influence can be observed in many of her works, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to review the headings of her family’s music to understand how he viewed himself as both a champion of UK romantic tradition as well as a voice of the Black diaspora.

It was here that Samuel and Avril began to differ.

White America judged Samuel by the excellence of his compositions as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Samuel’s African Roots

While he was studying at the renowned institution, the composer – the son of a parent from Sierra Leone and a Caucasian parent – started to lean into his background. At the time the Black American writer the renowned Dunbar came to London in the late 19th century, the young musician eagerly sought him out. He set the poet’s African Romances into music and the following year adapted his verses for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that put Samuel on the map: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an global success, notably for Black Americans who felt vicarious pride as white America assessed his work by the quality of his music rather than the colour of his skin.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Success did not temper his activism. At the turn of the century, he participated in the First Pan African Conference in the UK where he made the acquaintance of the African American intellectual the renowned Du Bois and observed a range of talks, such as the mistreatment of African people in South Africa. He remained an advocate throughout his life. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights like Du Bois and the educator Washington, delivered his own speeches on ending discrimination, and even talked about racial problems with the American leader on a trip to the White House in the early 1900s. Regarding his compositions, the scholar reflected, “he established his reputation so prominently as a composer that it will long be remembered.” He died in the early 20th century, aged 37. Yet how might the composer have thought of his offspring’s move to be in this country in the 1950s?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Child of Celebrated Artist shows support to apartheid system,” appeared as a heading in the Black American publication Jet magazine. Apartheid “seems to me the appropriate course”, the composer stated Jet. When asked to explain, she revised her statement: she was not in favor with this policy “in principle” and it “could be left to run its course, directed by well-meaning South Africans of all races”. Had Avril been more in tune to her parent’s beliefs, or born in Jim Crow America, she could have hesitated about the policy. But life had shielded her.

Identity and Naivety

“I have a British passport,” she remarked, “and the officials did not inquire me about my background.” Thus, with her “porcelain-white” complexion (as Jet put it), she moved among the Europeans, lifted by their admiration for her late father. She presented about her family’s work at the educational institution and led the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in Johannesburg, featuring the heroic third movement of her composition, subtitled: “In remembrance of my Father.” Even though a skilled pianist personally, she did not perform as the lead performer in her piece. On the contrary, she always led as the conductor; and so the segregated ensemble played under her baton.

Avril hoped, according to her, she “might bring a transformation”. Yet in the mid-1950s, the situation collapsed. Once officials learned of her African heritage, she was forced to leave the nation. Her citizenship failed to safeguard her, the British high commissioner recommended her departure or be jailed. She returned to England, feeling great shame as the extent of her inexperience became clear. “The realization was a difficult one,” she stated. Compounding her disgrace was the release in 1955 of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.

A Recurring Theme

As I sat with these legacies, I sensed a familiar story. The narrative of holding UK citizenship until it’s revoked – that brings to mind Black soldiers who defended the British in the World War II and survived only to be not given their earned rewards. And the Windrush generation,