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Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly experienced the weight of her father’s legacy. As the offspring of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the most famous British artists of the turn of the 20th century, the composer’s name was enveloped in the deep shadows of history.

The First Recording

Earlier this year, I sat with these shadows as I got ready to record the inaugural album of the composer’s 1936 piano concerto. Boasting impassioned harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and bold rhythms, Avril’s work will grant new listeners deep understanding into how she – a composer during war born in 1903 – conceived of her world as a female composer of color.

Shadows and Truth

Yet about legacies. It can take a while to acclimate, to see shapes as they actually appear, to tell reality from misinterpretation, and I felt hesitant to address Avril’s past for a while.

I had so wanted her to be her father’s daughter. In some ways, she was. The rustic British sounds of parental inspiration can be heard in several pieces, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). However, one need only examine the headings of her father’s compositions to see how he heard himself as both a flag bearer of English Romanticism and also a voice of the African heritage.

It was here that father and daughter began to differ.

American society evaluated Samuel by the brilliance of his compositions instead of the his ethnicity.

Family Background

During his studies at the renowned institution, Samuel – the son of a African father and a Caucasian parent – began embracing his heritage. Once the African American poet the renowned Dunbar visited the UK in that era, the aspiring artist eagerly sought him out. He adapted Dunbar’s African Romances to music and the next year used the poet’s words for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Subsequently arrived the choral piece that put Samuel on the map: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, this composition was an international hit, particularly among Black Americans who felt indirect honor as white America evaluated the composer by the quality of his art instead of the his background.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Recognition did not reduce his activism. In 1900, he attended the First Pan African Conference in the UK where he encountered the prominent scholar this influential figure and witnessed a variety of discussions, including on the mistreatment of African people in South Africa. He was an activist throughout his life. He kept connections with trailblazers for equality including the scholar and this leader, gave addresses on racial equality, and even talked about issues of racism with the American leader on a trip to the White House in 1904. As for his music, reminisced Du Bois, “he established his reputation so notably as a musician that it will long be remembered.” He passed away in 1912, in his thirties. But what would the composer have thought of his child’s choice to be in the African nation in the 1950s?

Conflict and Policy

“Daughter of Famous Composer expresses approval to S African Bias,” appeared as a heading in the African American magazine Jet magazine. This policy “seems to me the appropriate course”, the composer stated Jet. When asked to explain, she qualified her remarks: she didn’t agree with apartheid “as a concept” and it “should be allowed to work itself out, guided by benevolent South Africans of all races”. Had Avril been more aligned to her parent’s beliefs, or raised in segregated America, she could have hesitated about this system. But life had protected her.

Identity and Naivety

“I possess a British passport,” she said, “and the officials failed to question me about my race.” Therefore, with her “light” skin (as Jet put it), she traveled within European circles, buoyed up by their praise for her late father. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the University of Cape Town and directed the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in the city, featuring the heroic third movement of her concerto, subtitled: “Dedicated to my Father.” Although a skilled pianist on her own, she never played as the featured artist in her work. Rather, she invariably directed as the conductor; and so the apartheid orchestra followed her lead.

Avril hoped, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. Yet in the mid-1950s, the situation collapsed. After authorities became aware of her African heritage, she had to depart the country. Her citizenship failed to safeguard her, the UK representative recommended her departure or face arrest. She returned to England, embarrassed as the scale of her innocence was realized. “This experience was a difficult one,” she expressed. Compounding her embarrassment was the 1955 publication of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from that nation.

A Common Narrative

While I reflected with these legacies, I sensed a recurring theme. The narrative of holding UK citizenship until you’re not – one that calls to mind troops of color who served for the English throughout the World War II and survived only to be denied their due compensation. Including those from Windrush,