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Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly bore the burden of her parent’s heritage. Being the child of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, one of the prominent British artists of the early 20th century, the composer’s name was cloaked in the deep shadows of the past.

An Inaugural Recording

Earlier this year, I sat with these shadows as I prepared to record the first-ever recording of Avril’s piano concerto from 1936. With its intense musical themes, expressive melodies, and bold rhythms, this piece will provide music lovers fascinating insight into how this artist – an artist in conflict who entered the world in 1903 – imagined her world as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

But here’s the thing about shadows. It requires time to acclimate, to see shapes as they truly exist, to separate fact from misrepresentation, and I felt hesitant to face the composer’s background for a while.

I had so wanted the composer to be following in her father’s footsteps. Partially, that held. The rustic British sounds of Samuel’s influence can be detected in numerous compositions, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to review the names of her family’s music to realize how he heard himself as both a champion of UK romantic tradition as well as a voice of the African heritage.

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

American society evaluated Samuel by the excellence of his compositions rather than the his ethnicity.

Parental Heritage

While he was studying at the Royal College of Music, her father – the son of a African father and a British mother – began embracing his African roots. At the time the African American poet this literary figure visited the UK in 1897, the 21-year-old composer actively pursued him. He composed this literary work as a composition and the following year adapted his verses for an opera, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an international hit, notably for the Black community who felt indirect honor as white America assessed his work by the brilliance of his compositions rather than the colour of his skin.

Activism and Politics

Success did not reduce his beliefs. During that period, he attended the First Pan African Conference in England where he made the acquaintance of the African American intellectual the renowned Du Bois and saw a series of speeches, covering the subjugation of the Black community there. He was a campaigner to his final days. He sustained relationships with early civil rights leaders including the scholar and Booker T Washington, delivered his own speeches on ending discrimination, and even engaged in dialogue on issues of racism with the US President during an invitation to the US capital in 1904. Regarding his compositions, Du Bois recalled, “he made his mark so notably as a creative artist that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He succumbed in the early 20th century, aged 37. But what would the composer have thought of his daughter’s decision to travel to the African nation in the that decade?

Issues and Stance

“Offspring of Renowned Musician gives OK to South African policy,” ran a headline in the Black American publication Jet magazine. Apartheid “seems to me the correct approach”, she informed Jet. When asked to explain, she revised her statement: she did not support with apartheid “fundamentally” and it “could be left to resolve itself, guided by benevolent residents of all races”. If Avril had been more in tune to her parent’s beliefs, or raised in Jim Crow America, she may have reconsidered about the policy. Yet her life had sheltered her.

Identity and Naivety

“I hold a UK passport,” she stated, “and the government agents did not inquire me about my background.” So, with her “light” skin (as described), she traveled alongside white society, supported by their acclaim for her deceased parent. She delivered a lecture about her father’s music at the Cape Town university and directed the national orchestra in Johannesburg, including the bold final section of her concerto, named: “In memory of my Father.” Even though a accomplished player herself, she avoided playing as the featured artist in her piece. On the contrary, she consistently conducted as the conductor; and so the orchestra of the era followed her lead.

The composer aspired, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. But by 1954, the situation collapsed. After authorities became aware of her Black ancestry, she had to depart the country. Her UK document offered no defense, the UK representative recommended her departure or risk imprisonment. She returned to England, deeply ashamed as the scale of her inexperience became clear. “The realization was a hard one,” she lamented. Adding to her embarrassment was the printing that year of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from the country.

A Recurring Theme

Upon contemplating with these legacies, I felt a known narrative. The narrative of identifying as British until you’re not – that brings to mind African-descended soldiers who served for the English in the second world war and made it through but were refused rightful benefits. Along with the Windrush era,