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Avril Coleridge-Taylor always experienced the burden of her family reputation. Being the child of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the best-known UK composers of the early 20th century, the composer’s identity was shrouded in the lingering obscurity of history.

An Inaugural Recording

In recent months, I sat with these shadows as I made arrangements to produce the first-ever recording of the composer’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. Featuring emotional harmonies, soulful lyricism, and bold rhythms, her composition will grant new listeners deep understanding into how this artist – an artist in conflict originating from the early 1900s – conceived of her existence as a artist with mixed heritage.

Shadows and Truth

But here’s the thing about shadows. It requires time to acclimate, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to separate fact from distortion, and I had been afraid to face her history for a period.

I earnestly desired her to be following in her father’s footsteps. To some extent, this was true. The idyllic English tones of Samuel’s influence can be observed in numerous compositions, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to look at the names of her parent’s works to realize how he viewed himself as not only a champion of UK romantic tradition and also a voice of the African heritage.

It was here that parent and child seemed to diverge.

The United States judged Samuel by the excellence of his compositions instead of the colour of his skin.

Parental Heritage

During his studies at the Royal College of Music, her father – the son of a Sierra Leonean father and a British mother – turned toward his background. At the time the Black American writer the renowned Dunbar came to London in that era, the aspiring artist was keen to meet him. He adapted Dunbar’s African Romances into music and the following year incorporated his poetry for an opera, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral piece that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an global success, particularly among Black Americans who felt vicarious pride as American society judged Samuel by the quality of his music as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Recognition did not temper his beliefs. In 1900, he attended the First Pan African Conference in the UK where he made the acquaintance of the African American intellectual WEB Du Bois and observed a range of talks, including on the subjugation of Black South Africans. He remained an advocate to his final days. He maintained ties with pioneers of civil rights including this intellectual and Booker T Washington, gave addresses on ending discrimination, and even discussed racial problems with the US President on a trip to the US capital in 1904. As for his music, Du Bois recalled, “he established his reputation so high as a creative artist that it will endure.” He died in that year, at 37 years old. Yet how might her father have thought of his daughter’s decision to travel to South Africa in the 1950s?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Offspring of Renowned Musician shows support to apartheid system,” appeared as a heading in the community journal Jet magazine. Apartheid “seems to me the correct approach”, she informed Jet. When asked to explain, she revised her statement: she didn’t agree with apartheid “as a concept” and it “could be left to resolve itself, guided by benevolent South Africans of diverse ethnicities”. Were the composer more aligned to her family’s principles, or from Jim Crow America, she may have reconsidered about apartheid. But life had protected her.

Heritage and Innocence

“I possess a British passport,” she stated, “and the authorities failed to question me about my race.” So, with her “porcelain-white” skin (as described), she floated alongside white society, lifted by their admiration for her late father. She delivered a lecture about her father’s music at the Cape Town university and conducted the South African Broadcasting Corporation Orchestra in the city, including the heroic third movement of her composition, named: “In remembrance of my Father.” Although a accomplished player personally, she did not perform as the lead performer in her piece. Rather, she always led as the conductor; and so the segregated ensemble played under her baton.

She desired, as she stated, she “may foster a transformation”. Yet in the mid-1950s, circumstances deteriorated. When government agents discovered her Black ancestry, she had to depart the country. Her British passport didn’t protect her, the diplomatic official urged her to go or face arrest. She returned to England, embarrassed as the magnitude of her inexperience dawned. “The lesson was a painful one,” she lamented. Adding to her embarrassment was the printing that year of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.

A Recurring Theme

While I reflected with these legacies, I sensed a recurring theme. The story of holding UK citizenship until it’s revoked – which recalls African-descended soldiers who served for the British during the second world war and made it through but were refused rightful benefits. Including those from Windrush,