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Avril Coleridge-Taylor always bore the weight of her parent’s reputation. Being the child of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, one of the best-known English artists of the early 20th century, Avril’s reputation was cloaked in the lingering obscurity of the past.

The First Recording

In recent months, I sat with these memories as I made arrangements to make the world premiere recording of the composer’s piano concerto from 1936. Featuring emotional harmonies, expressive melodies, and bold rhythms, her composition will offer music lovers deep understanding into how the composer – a wartime composer originating from the early 1900s – conceived of her existence as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

Yet about legacies. One needs patience to acclimate, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to tell reality from distortion, and I had been afraid to address the composer’s background for a while.

I had so wanted the composer to be following in her father’s footsteps. To some extent, this was true. The rustic British sounds of her father’s impact can be detected in several pieces, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to look at the headings of her father’s compositions to understand how he heard himself as both a flag bearer of English Romanticism and also a representative of the African heritage.

This was where Samuel and Avril began to differ.

American society evaluated Samuel by the brilliance of his art instead of the colour of his skin.

Parental Heritage

As a student at the renowned institution, Samuel – the offspring of a African father and a British mother – started to lean into his background. Once the African American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar arrived in England in that era, the young musician was keen to meet him. He composed the poet’s African Romances into music and the following year used the poet’s words for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Subsequently arrived the choral composition that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an worldwide sensation, especially with African Americans who felt indirect honor as American society assessed his work by the brilliance of his music instead of the his race.

Activism and Politics

Recognition failed to diminish his beliefs. At the turn of the century, he was present at the initial Pan African gathering in England where he encountered the prominent scholar the renowned Du Bois and witnessed a series of speeches, such as the mistreatment of Black South Africans. He was an activist until the end. He sustained relationships with pioneers of civil rights such as Du Bois and the educator Washington, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even talked about issues of racism with President Theodore Roosevelt during an invitation to the presidential residence in 1904. As for his music, the scholar reflected, “he wrote his name so prominently as a composer that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He passed away in that year, aged 37. However, how would the composer have made of his daughter’s decision to be in this country in the mid-20th century?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Daughter of Famous Composer shows support to South African policy,” declared a title in the community journal Jet magazine. Apartheid “struck me as the correct approach”, she informed Jet. Upon further questioning, she revised her statement: she did not support with the system “fundamentally” and it “should be allowed to run its course, directed by benevolent people of all races”. Were the composer more in tune to her father’s politics, or born in the US under segregation, she may have reconsidered about apartheid. Yet her life had sheltered her.

Identity and Naivety

“I possess a UK passport,” she remarked, “and the government agents failed to question me about my ethnicity.” So, with her “fair” skin (as described), she traveled within European circles, buoyed up by their acclaim for her deceased parent. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the educational institution and led the national orchestra in that location, including the heroic third movement of her concerto, subtitled: “In memory of my Father.” While a confident pianist herself, she did not perform as the lead performer in her piece. Instead, she invariably directed as the conductor; and so the segregated ensemble performed under her direction.

She desired, according to her, she “could introduce a transformation”. But by 1954, things fell apart. Once officials learned of her mixed background, she could no longer stay the country. Her British passport offered no defense, the diplomatic official advised her to leave or face arrest. She came home, embarrassed as the extent of her inexperience became clear. “The realization was a painful one,” she expressed. Increasing her embarrassment was the printing that year of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.

A Common Narrative

While I reflected with these shadows, I sensed a familiar story. The story of identifying as British until it’s challenged – that brings to mind troops of color who served for the British throughout the second world war and made it through but were not given their earned rewards. Including those from Windrush,