Avril Coleridge-Taylor constantly felt the pressure of her family legacy. As the offspring of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, one of the best-known British artists of the 1900s, the composer’s reputation was enveloped in the long shadows of history.
The First Recording
Earlier this year, I sat with these legacies as I made arrangements to record the inaugural album of her concerto for piano composed in 1936. Boasting emotional harmonies, soulful lyricism, and valiant rhythms, this piece will provide audiences valuable perspective into how she – a wartime composer originating from the early 1900s – envisioned her reality as a artist with mixed heritage.
Shadows and Truth
But here’s the thing about shadows. It can take a while to adjust, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to separate fact from misinterpretation, and I was reluctant to confront Avril’s past for a while.
I deeply hoped the composer to be following in her father’s footsteps. In some ways, that held. The rustic British sounds of parental inspiration can be observed in several pieces, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to look at the headings of her family’s music to understand how he heard himself as both a flag bearer of British Romantic style as well as a representative of the African diaspora.
This was where father and daughter seemed to diverge.
American society judged Samuel by the brilliance of his art instead of the colour of his skin.
Parental Heritage
As a student at the renowned institution, Samuel – the son of a Sierra Leonean father and a Caucasian parent – turned toward his background. When the African American poet the renowned Dunbar arrived in England in 1897, the young musician eagerly sought him out. He composed Dunbar’s African Romances into music and the next year adapted his verses for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.
Drawing from this American writer’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an worldwide sensation, notably for African Americans who felt vicarious pride as American society assessed his work by the quality of his music rather than the his race.
Principles and Actions
Recognition did not temper his beliefs. At the turn of the century, he attended the pioneering African conference in the UK where he met the prominent scholar this influential figure and observed a variety of discussions, including on the oppression of African people in South Africa. He was a campaigner to his final days. He maintained ties with early civil rights leaders like the scholar and Booker T Washington, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even talked about matters of race with the US President during an invitation to the White House in that year. As for his music, reminisced Du Bois, “he made his mark so notably as a creative artist that it will endure.” He passed away in the early 20th century, in his thirties. Yet how might the composer have thought of his daughter’s decision to be in the African nation in the that decade?
Issues and Stance
“Offspring of Renowned Musician expresses approval to S African Bias,” appeared as a heading in the African American magazine Jet magazine. Apartheid “appeared to me the appropriate course”, she informed Jet. When asked to explain, she revised her statement: she didn’t agree with the system “in principle” and it “should be allowed to resolve itself, overseen by good-intentioned people of every background”. Were the composer more attuned to her family’s principles, or raised in Jim Crow America, she might have thought twice about this system. Yet her life had sheltered her.
Identity and Naivety
“I have a UK passport,” she stated, “and the officials failed to question me about my race.” Therefore, with her “fair” complexion (as Jet put it), she floated alongside white society, lifted by their praise for her renowned family member. She gave a talk about her family’s work at the Cape Town university and directed the broadcasting ensemble in Johannesburg, featuring the heroic third movement of her composition, subtitled: “Dedicated to my Father.” Even though a skilled pianist on her own, she did not perform as the lead performer in her work. Rather, she always led as the leader; and so the segregated ensemble played under her baton.
The composer aspired, in her own words, she “might bring a change”. Yet in the mid-1950s, things fell apart. When government agents learned of her African heritage, she could no longer stay the land. Her citizenship offered no defense, the British high commissioner urged her to go or be jailed. She went back to the UK, embarrassed as the scale of her naivety dawned. “This experience was a hard one,” she expressed. Increasing her humiliation was the 1955 publication of her controversial discussion, a year after her forced leaving from that nation.
A Recurring Theme
While I reflected with these memories, I felt a familiar story. The story of identifying as British until it’s revoked – that brings to mind troops of color who served for the British during the World War II and made it through but were not given their earned rewards. Including those from Windrush,
