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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly felt the pressure of her father’s reputation. As the daughter of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the most famous English artists of the 1900s, the composer’s identity was enveloped in the deep shadows of bygone eras.

A World Premiere

Earlier this year, I reflected on these legacies as I got ready to make the first-ever recording of the composer’s 1936 piano concerto. Boasting impassioned harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and bold rhythms, her composition will offer new listeners valuable perspective into how she – a composer during war originating from the early 1900s – imagined her existence as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

However about legacies. One needs patience to adjust, to see shapes as they really are, to separate fact from misinterpretation, and I felt hesitant to face the composer’s background for a while.

I had so wanted Avril to be following in her father’s footsteps. In some ways, she was. The idyllic English tones of her father’s impact can be observed in many of her works, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to look at the names of her parent’s works to see how he viewed himself as not just a champion of British Romantic style but a representative of the African diaspora.

This was where parent and child seemed to diverge.

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

Family Background

As a student at the renowned institution, Samuel – the son of a parent from Sierra Leone and a British mother – turned toward his heritage. At the time the African American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar visited the UK in 1897, the aspiring artist eagerly sought him out. He composed Dunbar’s African Romances to music and the subsequent year adapted his verses for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral work that made him famous: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, this composition was an international hit, notably for the Black community who felt vicarious pride as white America judged Samuel by the brilliance of his art instead of the his background.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Success did not temper Samuel’s politics. During that period, he was present at the First Pan African Conference in London where he made the acquaintance of the African American intellectual this influential figure and observed a range of talks, including on the subjugation of the Black community there. He was a campaigner until the end. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights such as Du Bois and Booker T Washington, delivered his own speeches on equality for all, and even talked about matters of race with President Theodore Roosevelt while visiting to the presidential residence in the early 1900s. Regarding his compositions, reminisced Du Bois, “he established his reputation so prominently as a creative artist that it will endure.” He died in that year, aged 37. Yet how might Samuel have reacted to his child’s choice to be in South Africa in the that decade?

Controversy and Apartheid

“Offspring of Renowned Musician gives OK to South African policy,” declared a title in the Black American publication Jet magazine. The system “appeared to me the correct approach”, Avril told Jet. When pushed to clarify, she qualified her remarks: she was not in favor with this policy “in principle” and it “could be left to resolve itself, guided by well-meaning South Africans of diverse ethnicities”. Had Avril been more attuned to her father’s politics, or from Jim Crow America, she could have hesitated about the policy. However, existence had shielded her.

Identity and Naivety

“I possess a British passport,” she stated, “and the officials did not inquire me about my ethnicity.” Thus, with her “porcelain-white” complexion (as described), she floated within European circles, buoyed up by their praise for her deceased parent. She presented about her family’s work at the University of Cape Town and conducted the broadcasting ensemble in the city, featuring the heroic third movement of her composition, subtitled: “Dedicated to my Father.” While a accomplished player herself, she never played as the lead performer in her concerto. Instead, she always led as the leader; and so the orchestra of the era followed her lead.

She desired, according to her, she “could introduce a transformation”. Yet in the mid-1950s, circumstances deteriorated. After authorities became aware of her mixed background, she could no longer stay the nation. Her UK document offered no defense, the UK representative recommended her departure or risk imprisonment. She came home, feeling great shame as the scale of her inexperience became clear. “The realization was a painful one,” she expressed. Increasing her humiliation was the release in 1955 of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her unceremonious exit from that nation.

A Familiar Story

While I reflected with these shadows, I sensed a familiar story. The narrative of identifying as British until you’re not – that brings to mind troops of color who served for the UK throughout the World War II and lived only to be denied their due compensation. And the Windrush generation,