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The composer Avril Coleridge-Taylor continually felt the weight of her parent’s heritage. Being the child of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the most famous British artists of the turn of the 20th century, the composer’s reputation was cloaked in the deep shadows of the past.

The First Recording

Earlier this year, I sat with these shadows as I got ready to make the first-ever recording of the composer’s piano concerto from 1936. Boasting intense musical themes, soulful lyricism, and bold rhythms, this piece will provide new listeners fascinating insight into how this artist – an artist in conflict who entered the world in 1903 – imagined her existence as a artist with mixed heritage.

Shadows and Truth

But here’s the thing about the past. One needs patience to acclimate, to perceive forms as they really are, to tell reality from misinterpretation, and I felt hesitant to face Avril’s past for some time.

I had so wanted the composer to be following in her father’s footsteps. To some extent, that held. The pastoral English palettes of parental inspiration can be heard in many of her works, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). But you only have to look at the titles of her parent’s works to understand how he identified as both a standard-bearer of English Romanticism and also a voice of the African diaspora.

It was here that parent and child began to differ.

American society assessed the composer by the mastery of his compositions as opposed to the his racial background.

Parental Heritage

As a student at the prestigious music college, Samuel – the child of a African father and a British mother – started to lean into his heritage. At the time the Black American writer Paul Laurence Dunbar visited the UK in 1897, the young musician was keen to meet him. He set this literary work to music and the following year used the poet’s words for an opera, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral composition that put Samuel on the map: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, this composition was an international hit, especially with African Americans who felt shared pride as American society evaluated the composer by the excellence of his art as opposed to the colour of his skin.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Fame failed to diminish his beliefs. At the turn of the century, he attended the First Pan African Conference in London where he met the African American intellectual this influential figure and saw a range of talks, covering the mistreatment of Black South Africans. He was a campaigner to his final days. He maintained ties with early civil rights leaders including the scholar and the educator Washington, spoke publicly on ending discrimination, and even discussed racial problems with President Theodore Roosevelt on a trip to the White House in 1904. Regarding his compositions, Du Bois recalled, “he established his reputation so notably as a composer that it cannot soon be forgotten.” He died in the early 20th century, in his thirties. However, how would her father have reacted to his offspring’s move to be in the African nation in the that decade?

Issues and Stance

“Child of Celebrated Artist gives OK to South African policy,” appeared as a heading in the community journal Jet magazine. This policy “appeared to me the correct approach”, Avril told Jet. Upon further questioning, she revised her statement: she was not in favor with the system “fundamentally” and it “ought to be permitted to run its course, overseen by well-meaning people of diverse ethnicities”. If Avril had been more aligned to her family’s principles, or born in segregated America, she may have reconsidered about apartheid. Yet her life had shielded her.

Identity and Naivety

“I hold a UK passport,” she said, “and the authorities did not inquire me about my background.” Thus, with her “fair” skin (as described), she floated alongside white society, supported by their praise for her renowned family member. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the University of Cape Town and led the broadcasting ensemble in the city, including the bold final section of her Piano Concerto, subtitled: “In memory of my Father.” While a skilled pianist personally, she never played as the featured artist in her concerto. Instead, she consistently conducted as the conductor; and so the apartheid orchestra followed her lead.

The composer aspired, in her own words, she “could introduce a shift”. However, by that year, the situation collapsed. When government agents learned of her African heritage, she had to depart the nation. Her UK document didn’t protect her, the diplomatic official urged her to go or be jailed. She went back to the UK, embarrassed as the scale of her inexperience dawned. “This experience was a painful one,” she lamented. Increasing her humiliation was the 1955 publication of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from that nation.

A Recurring Theme

As I sat with these shadows, I perceived a recurring theme. The narrative of holding UK citizenship until you’re not – which recalls troops of color who defended the British throughout the second world war and survived only to be not given their earned rewards. Along with the Windrush era,