A passionate Buffalo-based artist and writer, sharing insights on local art scenes and creative processes.
This talented musician continually felt the pressure of her parent’s legacy. As the offspring of the celebrated composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor, a leading the best-known English artists of the 1900s, Avril’s identity was enveloped in the lingering obscurity of history.
Not long ago, I reflected on these legacies as I got ready to make the first-ever recording of Avril’s piano concerto from 1936. Featuring emotional harmonies, heartfelt tunes, and valiant rhythms, her composition will offer music lovers deep understanding into how the composer – a wartime composer originating from the early 1900s – imagined her existence as a woman of colour.
But here’s the thing about legacies. It requires time to adapt, to perceive forms as they truly exist, to distinguish truth from misinterpretation, and I felt hesitant to confront the composer’s background for some time.
I had so wanted the composer to be her father’s daughter. To some extent, this was true. The rustic British sounds of Samuel’s influence can be detected in many of her works, such as From the Hills (1934) and Sussex Landscape (1940). Yet it suffices to examine the titles of her parent’s works to see how he identified as not just a standard-bearer of UK romantic tradition and also a advocate of the Black diaspora.
This was where parent and child appeared to part ways.
The United States judged Samuel by the mastery of his art instead of the his ethnicity.
While he was studying at the prestigious music college, Samuel – the offspring of a parent from Sierra Leone and a British mother – began embracing his background. At the time the poet of color the renowned Dunbar arrived in England in 1897, the 21-year-old composer eagerly sought him out. He adapted this literary work as a composition and the next year adapted his verses for an opera, Dream Lovers. This was followed by the choral composition that put Samuel on the map: Hiawatha’s Wedding Feast.
Inspired by the poet Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, the piece was an global success, notably for the Black community who felt vicarious pride as white America judged Samuel by the brilliance of his music rather than the his background.
Success did not reduce his activism. At the turn of the century, he was present at the initial Pan African gathering in London where he encountered the prominent scholar WEB Du Bois and saw a range of talks, covering the subjugation of the Black community there. He was a campaigner to his final days. He maintained ties with early civil rights leaders like Du Bois and this leader, spoke publicly on equality for all, and even discussed racial problems with the American leader on a trip to the US capital in that year. Regarding his compositions, the scholar reflected, “he established his reputation so notably as a creative artist that it will long be remembered.” He died in 1912, in his thirties. However, how would her father have reacted to his child’s choice to be in the African nation in the 1950s?
“Daughter of Famous Composer gives OK to S African Bias,” ran a headline in the African American magazine Jet magazine. This policy “struck me as the appropriate course”, Avril told Jet. When asked to explain, she revised her statement: she didn’t agree with apartheid “fundamentally” and it “ought to be permitted to run its course, overseen by good-intentioned residents of every background”. Were the composer more aligned to her family’s principles, or raised in the US under segregation, she could have hesitated about apartheid. Yet her life had sheltered her.
“I have a UK passport,” she stated, “and the government agents failed to question me about my ethnicity.” Thus, with her “porcelain-white” complexion (according to the magazine), she traveled alongside white society, buoyed up by their admiration for her deceased parent. She gave a talk about her parent’s compositions at the educational institution and led the national orchestra in Johannesburg, programming the inspiring part of her composition, named: “In remembrance of my Father.” Although a confident pianist herself, she never played as the featured artist in her concerto. On the contrary, she invariably directed as the maestro; and so the orchestra of the era performed under her direction.
The composer aspired, as she stated, she “may foster a transformation”. However, by that year, circumstances deteriorated. Once officials learned of her Black ancestry, she could no longer stay the country. Her citizenship failed to safeguard her, the British high commissioner advised her to leave or risk imprisonment. She returned to England, feeling great shame as the scale of her inexperience became clear. “The realization was a difficult one,” she lamented. Increasing her embarrassment was the printing that year of her unfortunate magazine feature, a year after her unceremonious exit from South Africa.
Upon contemplating with these memories, I felt a familiar story. The account of identifying as British until it’s challenged – that brings to mind African-descended soldiers who defended the British during the second world war and survived only to be denied their due compensation. And the Windrush generation,
A passionate Buffalo-based artist and writer, sharing insights on local art scenes and creative processes.