Stepping from Darkness: The Reasons Avril Coleridge-Taylor Merits to Be Listened To
This talented musician continually experienced the pressure of her father’s heritage. As the offspring of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the prominent UK composers of the 1900s, the composer’s identity was enveloped in the deep shadows of the past.
The First Recording
In recent months, I sat with these legacies as I prepared to produce the inaugural album of her 1936 piano concerto. Featuring impassioned harmonies, expressive melodies, and confident beats, this piece will provide audiences deep understanding into how the composer – a composer during war born in 1903 – envisioned her reality as a woman of colour.
Past and Present
However about the past. It can take a while to acclimate, to perceive forms as they actually appear, to distinguish truth from misinterpretation, and I had been afraid to address Avril’s past for a while.
I had so wanted her to be her father’s daughter. To some extent, this was true. The pastoral English palettes of her father’s impact can be heard in numerous compositions, including From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to review the titles of her parent’s works to realize how he identified as both a champion of British Romantic style as well as a voice of the African diaspora.
It was here that father and daughter appeared to part ways.
American society assessed the composer by the brilliance of his compositions rather than the his racial background.
Family Background
While he was studying at the Royal College of Music, the composer – the offspring of a Sierra Leonean father and a white English mother – began embracing his background. Once the African American poet this literary figure came to London in that era, the 21-year-old composer actively pursued him. He adapted the poet’s African Romances to music and the next year used the poet’s words for a musical work, Dream Lovers. Then came the choral work that established his reputation: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.
Based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, Samuel’s Hiawatha was an global success, notably for Black Americans who felt vicarious pride as American society evaluated the composer by the excellence of his art instead of the his race.
Principles and Actions
Recognition did not reduce his beliefs. At the turn of the century, he participated in the initial Pan African gathering in London where he made the acquaintance of the prominent scholar WEB Du Bois and saw a series of speeches, covering the oppression of the Black community there. He was an activist throughout his life. He maintained ties with pioneers of civil rights including this intellectual and Booker T Washington, gave addresses on equality for all, and even discussed matters of race with President Theodore Roosevelt on a trip to the White House in the early 1900s. In terms of his art, reminisced Du Bois, “he wrote his name so high as a creative artist that it will long be remembered.” He died in the early 20th century, at 37 years old. But what would Samuel have made of his daughter’s decision to travel to the African nation in the mid-20th century?
Issues and Stance
“Daughter of Famous Composer shows support to apartheid system,” ran a headline in the Black American publication Jet magazine. This policy “struck me as the right policy”, the composer stated Jet. When pushed to clarify, she revised her statement: she didn’t agree with this policy “as a concept” and it “ought to be permitted to work itself out, directed by benevolent people of all races”. Were the composer more aligned to her father’s politics, or raised in Jim Crow America, she may have reconsidered about apartheid. But life had sheltered her.
Heritage and Innocence
“I hold a English document,” she said, “and the government agents never asked me about my ethnicity.” Thus, with her “light” appearance (as Jet put it), she floated within European circles, supported by their admiration for her late father. She presented about her parent’s compositions at the educational institution and directed the broadcasting ensemble in Johannesburg, programming the inspiring part of her composition, named: “In remembrance of my Father.” Although a confident pianist on her own, she did not perform as the lead performer in her piece. Instead, she always led as the conductor; and so the apartheid orchestra followed her lead.
She desired, according to her, she “might bring a shift”. Yet in the mid-1950s, things fell apart. Once officials became aware of her African heritage, she could no longer stay the nation. Her UK document failed to safeguard her, the UK representative advised her to leave or be jailed. She came home, embarrassed as the extent of her inexperience was realized. “This experience was a painful one,” she lamented. Compounding her disgrace was the printing that year of her controversial discussion, a year after her unceremonious exit from the country.
A Familiar Story
As I sat with these memories, I felt a recurring theme. The story of identifying as British until it’s challenged – that brings to mind African-descended soldiers who fought on behalf of the UK in the second world war and made it through but were refused rightful benefits. And the Windrush generation,