The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor always felt the pressure of her family legacy. As the daughter of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the best-known English composers of the turn of the 20th century, Avril’s reputation was shrouded in the deep shadows of the past.
Not long ago, I contemplated these legacies as I got ready to produce the first-ever recording of her concerto for piano composed in 1936. Featuring emotional harmonies, soulful lyricism, and valiant rhythms, her composition will provide audiences deep understanding into how she – a wartime composer originating from the early 1900s – imagined her world as a artist with mixed heritage.
But here’s the thing about shadows. One needs patience to adjust, to recognize outlines as they truly exist, to tell reality from misrepresentation, and I was reluctant to address Avril’s past for a while.
I had so wanted the composer to be following in her father’s footsteps. To some extent, she was. The idyllic English tones of Samuel’s influence can be detected in numerous compositions, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to look at the names of her family’s music to realize how he viewed himself as not just a champion of British Romantic style as well as a advocate of the African heritage.
This was where father and daughter began to differ.
The United States assessed the composer by the excellence of his music rather than the his ethnicity.
While he was studying at the prestigious music college, the composer – the child of a Sierra Leonean father and a British mother – started to lean into his heritage. Once the poet of color this literary figure arrived in England in the late 19th century, the aspiring artist was keen to meet him. He composed Dunbar’s African Romances to music and the subsequent year used the poet’s words for an opera, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral composition that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.
Inspired by this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, this composition was an international hit, particularly among African Americans who felt vicarious pride as the majority judged Samuel by the quality of his compositions instead of the his background.
Fame failed to diminish his activism. At the turn of the century, he attended the First Pan African Conference in the UK where he met the African American intellectual the renowned Du Bois and saw a range of talks, including on the mistreatment of Black South Africans. He remained an advocate throughout his life. He maintained ties with pioneers of civil rights including this intellectual and Booker T Washington, spoke publicly on ending discrimination, and even engaged in dialogue on racial problems with the American leader while visiting to the White House in the early 1900s. Regarding his compositions, the scholar reflected, “he established his reputation so high as a musician that it will endure.” He succumbed in that year, at 37 years old. Yet how might Samuel have made of his offspring’s move to travel to this country in the that decade?
“Child of Celebrated Artist shows support to South African policy,” appeared as a heading in the African American magazine Jet magazine. This policy “seems to me the appropriate course”, Avril told Jet. When asked to explain, she backtracked: she did not support with the system “fundamentally” and it “could be left to run its course, overseen by good-intentioned people of every background”. Had Avril been more in tune to her father’s politics, or from Jim Crow America, she may have reconsidered about apartheid. But life had shielded her.
“I possess a English document,” she stated, “and the officials did not inquire me about my ethnicity.” Therefore, with her “porcelain-white” appearance (as Jet put it), she moved alongside white society, buoyed up by their praise for her deceased parent. She gave a talk about her father’s music at the Cape Town university and conducted the national orchestra in Johannesburg, featuring the bold final section of her concerto, subtitled: “In remembrance of my Father.” While a skilled pianist herself, she did not perform as the soloist in her work. On the contrary, she invariably directed as the maestro; and so the segregated ensemble performed under her direction.
She desired, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. However, by that year, things fell apart. After authorities became aware of her Black ancestry, she was forced to leave the country. Her citizenship failed to safeguard her, the diplomatic official recommended her departure or face arrest. She went back to the UK, deeply ashamed as the scale of her inexperience was realized. “This experience was a painful one,” she expressed. Adding to her humiliation was the printing that year of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her unceremonious exit from that nation.
As I sat with these legacies, I perceived a known narrative. The story of being British until it’s challenged – one that calls to mind Black soldiers who served for the British in the World War II and lived only to be refused rightful benefits. Along with the Windrush era,
A passionate gamer and writer with over a decade of experience in competitive gaming and content creation.