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This talented musician constantly experienced the weight of her family reputation. As the daughter of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the prominent British musicians of the turn of the 20th century, Avril’s identity was cloaked in the deep shadows of history.

An Inaugural Recording

Earlier this year, I contemplated these shadows as I got ready to record the first-ever recording of Avril’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. Featuring emotional harmonies, soulful lyricism, and valiant rhythms, this piece will offer audiences deep understanding into how she – a wartime composer originating from the early 1900s – imagined her world as a woman of colour.

Past and Present

However about legacies. It requires time to acclimate, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to distinguish truth from distortion, and I had been afraid to address her history for a period.

I deeply hoped Avril to be a reflection of her father. In some ways, she was. The rustic British sounds of her father’s impact can be heard in many of her works, for example From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to review the names of her father’s compositions to see how he identified as both a standard-bearer of British Romantic style as well as a representative of the Black diaspora.

It was here that parent and child seemed to diverge.

The United States assessed the composer by the excellence of his music as opposed to the his racial background.

Samuel’s African Roots

While he was studying at the prestigious music college, the composer – the offspring of a parent from Sierra Leone and a Caucasian parent – began embracing his African roots. When the poet of color the renowned Dunbar came to London in the late 19th century, the young musician was keen to meet him. He composed the poet’s African Romances into music and the next year adapted his verses for a musical work, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral composition that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Inspired by this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an worldwide sensation, particularly among Black Americans who felt shared pride as the majority assessed his work by the quality of his music instead of the colour of his skin.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Recognition did not temper his beliefs. During that period, he was present at the pioneering African conference in England where he made the acquaintance of the Black American thinker WEB Du Bois and observed a series of speeches, such as the oppression of Black South Africans. He was a campaigner to his final days. He sustained relationships with pioneers of civil rights including the scholar and this leader, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even engaged in dialogue on issues of racism with the American leader on a trip to the White House in that year. Regarding his compositions, Du Bois recalled, “he wrote his name so high as a musician that it will long be remembered.” He died in 1912, aged 37. However, how would Samuel have reacted to his offspring’s move to travel to this country in the mid-20th century?

Conflict and Policy

“Offspring of Renowned Musician shows support to apartheid system,” appeared as a heading in the African American magazine Jet magazine. Apartheid “struck me as the correct approach”, she informed Jet. When pushed to clarify, she backtracked: she did not support with apartheid “fundamentally” and it “could be left to run its course, guided by well-meaning South Africans of every background”. Had Avril been more attuned to her parent’s beliefs, or born in Jim Crow America, she could have hesitated about this system. However, existence had shielded her.

Background and Inexperience

“I have a British passport,” she stated, “and the government agents failed to question me about my ethnicity.” So, with her “porcelain-white” appearance (according to the magazine), she floated alongside white society, supported by their praise for her renowned family member. She presented about her father’s music at the educational institution and directed the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in the city, programming the bold final section of her composition, titled: “In remembrance of my Father.” While a confident pianist on her own, she never played as the featured artist in her concerto. Rather, she invariably directed as the leader; and so the apartheid orchestra performed under her direction.

The composer aspired, in her own words, she “might bring a transformation”. Yet in the mid-1950s, the situation collapsed. When government agents learned of her African heritage, she was forced to leave the land. Her UK document didn’t protect her, the British high commissioner urged her to go or risk imprisonment. She came home, feeling great shame as the scale of her inexperience became clear. “This experience was a hard one,” she lamented. Adding to her embarrassment was the release in 1955 of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her forced leaving from South Africa.

A Common Narrative

Upon contemplating with these shadows, I perceived a recurring theme. The account of identifying as British until you’re not – one that calls to mind troops of color who defended the English in the global conflict and made it through but were refused rightful benefits. And the Windrush generation,