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This talented musician always experienced the burden of her father’s reputation. Being the child of the renowned Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the most famous British composers of the early 20th century, Avril’s reputation was enveloped in the deep shadows of bygone eras.

The First Recording

In recent months, I reflected on these shadows as I prepared to produce the inaugural album of her 1936 piano concerto. With its intense musical themes, soulful lyricism, and confident beats, this piece will provide audiences fascinating insight into how the composer – a composer during war who entered the world in 1903 – conceived of her reality as a artist with mixed heritage.

Shadows and Truth

Yet about legacies. One needs patience to acclimate, to see shapes as they truly exist, to tell reality from misinterpretation, and I was reluctant to confront her history for some time.

I had so wanted her to be her father’s daughter. Partially, this was true. The pastoral English palettes of parental inspiration can be heard in many of her works, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to look at the titles of her parent’s works to see how he heard himself as both a champion of English Romanticism and also a representative of the African heritage.

This was where father and daughter began to differ.

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

Samuel’s African Roots

During his studies at the Royal College of Music, the composer – the offspring of a parent from Sierra Leone and a white English mother – began embracing his heritage. When the African American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar came to London in 1897, the 21-year-old composer was keen to meet him. He adapted the poet’s African Romances to music and the subsequent year used the poet’s words for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that made him famous: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an global success, particularly among African Americans who felt indirect honor as white America evaluated the composer by the quality of his art instead of the colour of his skin.

Activism and Politics

Recognition did not reduce Samuel’s politics. In 1900, he participated in the pioneering African conference in the UK where he made the acquaintance of the prominent scholar this influential figure and saw a series of speeches, covering the mistreatment of Black South Africans. He remained an advocate throughout his life. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights such as the scholar and the educator Washington, gave addresses on racial equality, and even talked about matters of race with President Theodore Roosevelt on a trip to the White House in the early 1900s. Regarding his compositions, the scholar reflected, “he wrote his name so notably as a creative artist that it will long be remembered.” He passed away in that year, at 37 years old. However, how would Samuel have reacted to his child’s choice to travel to the African nation in the that decade?

Issues and Stance

“Child of Celebrated Artist expresses approval to South African policy,” ran a headline in the Black American publication Jet magazine. Apartheid “seems to me the right policy”, Avril told Jet. When pushed to clarify, she revised her statement: she didn’t agree with this policy “fundamentally” and it “ought to be permitted to resolve itself, overseen by well-meaning South Africans of diverse ethnicities”. Were the composer more attuned to her father’s politics, or born in the US under segregation, she might have thought twice about apartheid. However, existence had shielded her.

Background and Inexperience

“I possess a UK passport,” she said, “and the government agents failed to question me about my background.” Therefore, with her “light” complexion (as described), she floated within European circles, supported by their admiration for her late father. She gave a talk about her family’s work at the University of Cape Town and led the national orchestra in the city, including the heroic third movement of her concerto, titled: “In remembrance of my Father.” Even though a skilled pianist on her own, she avoided playing as the soloist in her piece. On the contrary, she always led as the conductor; and so the apartheid orchestra followed her lead.

The composer aspired, according to her, she “may foster a change”. However, by that year, things fell apart. When government agents became aware of her African heritage, she was forced to leave the nation. Her British passport failed to safeguard her, the British high commissioner urged her to go or be jailed. She came home, deeply ashamed as the extent of her innocence dawned. “The lesson was a painful one,” she expressed. Increasing her embarrassment was the release in 1955 of her ill-fated Jet interview, a year after her unceremonious exit from that nation.

A Familiar Story

Upon contemplating with these legacies, I sensed a recurring theme. The narrative of holding UK citizenship until it’s challenged – one that calls to mind Black soldiers who fought on behalf of the UK throughout the global conflict and survived only to be refused rightful benefits. Including those from Windrush,