Out of Obscurity: Why Avril Coleridge-Taylor Deserves to Be Recognized

This talented musician always bore the pressure of her family heritage. As the daughter of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, among the most famous English composers of the 1900s, her reputation was enveloped in the lingering obscurity of the past.

A World Premiere

Earlier this year, I sat with these memories as I got ready to record the first-ever recording of the composer’s concerto for piano composed in 1936. Boasting intense musical themes, expressive melodies, and confident beats, her composition will offer audiences deep understanding into how the composer – a composer during war born in 1903 – imagined her existence as a woman of colour.

Shadows and Truth

However about legacies. It can take a while to acclimate, to recognize outlines as they really are, to separate fact from misrepresentation, and I had been afraid to confront Avril’s past for some time.

I had so wanted Avril to be her father’s daughter. In some ways, she was. The rustic British sounds of parental inspiration can be observed in many of her works, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to review the names of her family’s music to realize how he identified as not only a standard-bearer of British Romantic style but a representative of the African diaspora.

At this point father and daughter began to differ.

American society judged Samuel by the brilliance of his art instead of the colour of his skin.

Samuel’s African Roots

During his studies at the prestigious music college, her father – the child of a Sierra Leonean father and a Caucasian parent – started to lean into his heritage. Once the Black American writer Paul Laurence Dunbar came to London in the late 19th century, the young musician eagerly sought him out. He adapted the poet’s African Romances to music and the following year incorporated his poetry for a stage piece, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral composition that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.

Drawing from the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an international hit, particularly among African Americans who felt shared pride as American society assessed his work by the excellence of his compositions instead of the colour of his skin.

Advocacy and Beliefs

Success failed to diminish Samuel’s politics. In 1900, he participated in the initial Pan African gathering in the UK where he met the African American intellectual WEB Du Bois and observed a series of speeches, such as the subjugation of Black South Africans. He was a campaigner to his final days. He kept connections with pioneers of civil rights like this intellectual and this leader, delivered his own speeches on equality for all, and even discussed matters of race with President Theodore Roosevelt while visiting to the presidential residence in that year. In terms of his art, reminisced Du Bois, “he wrote his name so notably as a musician that it will long be remembered.” He died in that year, in his thirties. Yet how might Samuel have reacted to his daughter’s decision to work in the African nation in the that decade?

Issues and Stance

“Child of Celebrated Artist shows support to apartheid system,” ran a headline in the community journal Jet magazine. This policy “struck me as the appropriate course”, she informed Jet. Upon further questioning, she backtracked: she did not support with apartheid “fundamentally” and it “ought to be permitted to work itself out, overseen by good-intentioned residents of all races”. If Avril had been more attuned to her family’s principles, or from segregated America, she may have reconsidered about the policy. However, existence had protected her.

Identity and Naivety

“I have a British passport,” she stated, “and the authorities failed to question me about my background.” Thus, with her “light” complexion (as described), she moved among the Europeans, buoyed up by their praise for her late father. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the educational institution and conducted the national orchestra in Johannesburg, including the bold final section of her Piano Concerto, titled: “Dedicated to my Father.” Although a confident pianist on her own, she avoided playing as the lead performer in her piece. Rather, she invariably directed as the conductor; and so the segregated ensemble played under her baton.

The composer aspired, as she stated, she “could introduce a change”. But by 1954, circumstances deteriorated. When government agents discovered her mixed background, she had to depart the nation. Her citizenship didn’t protect her, the diplomatic official advised her to leave or be jailed. She returned to England, deeply ashamed as the magnitude of her naivety dawned. “The lesson was a difficult one,” she stated. Adding to her disgrace was the release in 1955 of her controversial discussion, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.

A Recurring Theme

Upon contemplating with these memories, I sensed a familiar story. The narrative of being British until you’re not – one that calls to mind troops of color who fought on behalf of the UK in the global conflict and lived only to be denied their due compensation. Including those from Windrush,

Tricia Bass
Tricia Bass

Elara is a passionate storyteller and writing coach with over a decade of experience, dedicated to helping others craft compelling narratives.