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Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly felt the burden of her parent’s reputation. Being the child of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the prominent English composers of the turn of the 20th century, her name was cloaked in the deep shadows of bygone eras.

A World Premiere

Earlier this year, I contemplated these memories as I prepared to produce the inaugural album of Avril’s 1936 piano concerto. Featuring impassioned harmonies, soulful lyricism, and confident beats, this piece will offer music lovers valuable perspective into how she – an artist in conflict who entered the world in 1903 – imagined her world as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

However about shadows. One needs patience to acclimate, to perceive forms as they truly exist, to distinguish truth from distortion, and I was reluctant to face Avril’s past for a while.

I deeply hoped Avril to be a reflection of her father. To some extent, that held. The rustic British sounds of parental inspiration can be detected in numerous compositions, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). However, one need only examine the titles of her father’s compositions to see how he identified as not just a standard-bearer of British Romantic style as well as a representative of the Black diaspora.

It was here that father and daughter appeared to part ways.

American society judged Samuel by the brilliance of his compositions instead of the his racial background.

Family Background

As a student at the prestigious music college, the composer – the offspring of a parent from Sierra Leone and a Caucasian parent – began embracing his African roots. At the time the poet of color this literary figure arrived in England in that era, the 21-year-old composer was keen to meet him. He set Dunbar’s African Romances into music and the next year used the poet’s words for an opera, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral piece that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, this composition was an international hit, notably for African Americans who felt shared pride as American society judged Samuel by the excellence of his compositions as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Principles and Actions

Recognition did not temper his beliefs. In 1900, he participated in the initial Pan African gathering in London where he met the Black American thinker the renowned Du Bois and witnessed a series of speeches, such as the subjugation of African people in South Africa. He was a campaigner throughout his life. He maintained ties with early civil rights leaders such as Du Bois and this leader, spoke publicly on racial equality, and even discussed matters of race with the American leader during an invitation to the presidential residence in the early 1900s. In terms of his art, reminisced Du Bois, “he made his mark so high as a creative artist that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He passed away in that year, in his thirties. However, how would Samuel have made of his daughter’s decision to travel to this country in the mid-20th century?

Issues and Stance

“Offspring of Renowned Musician shows support to South African policy,” declared a title in the African American magazine Jet magazine. Apartheid “struck me as the correct approach”, the composer stated Jet. When asked to explain, she qualified her remarks: she was not in favor with the system “as a concept” and it “ought to be permitted to run its course, guided by good-intentioned people of all races”. Were the composer more attuned to her family’s principles, or born in Jim Crow America, she may have reconsidered about the policy. But life had shielded her.

Background and Inexperience

“I possess a UK passport,” she stated, “and the authorities failed to question me about my background.” Thus, with her “fair” skin (according to the magazine), she traveled among the Europeans, lifted by their admiration for her renowned family member. She presented about her father’s music at the Cape Town university and led the broadcasting ensemble in the city, featuring the heroic third movement of her concerto, named: “Dedicated to my Father.” Although a skilled pianist herself, she never played as the soloist in her piece. On the contrary, she invariably directed as the maestro; and so the apartheid orchestra followed her lead.

She desired, as she stated, she “might bring a shift”. However, by that year, circumstances deteriorated. Once officials became aware of her African heritage, she could no longer stay the country. Her British passport offered no defense, the UK representative recommended her departure or be jailed. She went back to the UK, deeply ashamed as the scale of her innocence became clear. “This experience was a hard one,” she lamented. Compounding her disgrace was the 1955 publication of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her forced leaving from South Africa.

A Recurring Theme

While I reflected with these legacies, I sensed a known narrative. The story of identifying as British until it’s challenged – that brings to mind troops of color who defended the British throughout the World War II and made it through but were refused rightful benefits. Including those from Windrush,