Eliza Meyer, a 20-year-old banjoist with an old soul, on her love for traditional North Carolina music

May 4, 2023 • MEJO 356 Feature Writing

When Eliza Meyer reached out with an extra ticket to MerleFest, I couldn’t say no. The annual folk music festival takes place in the quaint town of Wilkesboro, North Carolina, and I arrived Sunday mid-morning—the last day of the weekend-long festival. MerleFest, which was founded in memory of Merle Watson, the son of bluegrass musician Doc Watson, is attended by up to 80,000 people each year, ten times the population of surrounding Wilkesboro. To attend with Eliza, a young and accomplished old-time musician who I’d seen perform multiple times in the past few months, would surely bring many adventures.

The festival celebrates “traditional plus” music. Think banjos, mandolins, guitars. Jam circles. Groovy percussion from washboards on the more traditional end to drum sets on the commercial, Americana/country side of things. The website quotes Doc Watson: “When Merle and I started out we called our music ‘traditional plus,’ meaning the traditional music of the Appalachian region plus whatever other styles we were in the mood to play.” Eliza herself has dipped her toes into most of the types of music we heard at the festival—she’s accompanied other musicians at the Traditional Stage, played a solo set on the Youth Stage and performed in a one-song showcase on the massive Cabin Stage.

The rain clouds lifted as we rode a shuttle down a steep hill into the heart of the festival, and I started to wish I’d brought sunglasses. Eliza was also hatless—I’d watched her mournfully leave her massive felt cowboy hat (that went perfectly with her flared black pants and royal blue embroidered button-up) behind to protect it from any surprise afternoon showers.

The shuttle took us to the festival entry. Eliza and her mom, Staci Meyer, greeted every single person who walked up the creaky stairs with a “nice to see you again!” or a “nice to meet you,” their voices enveloped in sweet, Southern twang—they were truly in their element.

Walking with the mother and daughter pair around the festival was exciting. The two were always stopping to talk. Eliza was calm and confident, nodding her head to the folky riffs floating atop the festival from each of the twelve stages. Everywhere you turned, someone was lugging a guitar case up a hill or tapping their foot to a tune. The Meyers showed me the Merle Watson memorial fountain where three young girls stood fiddling. We passed the merch market, a large tent with T-shirts and CDs to buy and the Dance Stage, where a cluster of middle-aged couples prepared to stomp their muddy rain boots to the music of the Tejon Street Corner Thieves.

The largest stage, the Doc & Merle Watson Theatre, and the next-door Cabin Stage are surrounded by hundreds of chairs, accessible by dangerous mud pit walkways. Football fields of space lay beyond the chairs where folks enjoyed fried food on towels and camp chairs, watching ant-sized performers on one of three jumbotrons.

Backstage, Eliza showed me the spot where she met Emmylou Harris a few years prior, who she’d referenced earlier when I asked about her favorite past MerleFest shows. I loitered as she walked confidently into the artist tent—she’d decided she wasn’t interested in the chicken salad in the main lunch line. Eliza wasn’t playing at the festival this year; she performed her own set of old-time tunes last year, singing and playing banjo, but as a UNC-Chapel Hill student, she decided to put her academics first. So she wasn’t technically allowed in the artist tent. The volunteer at the door recognized her immediately, though, and let her slide by. Eliza emerged victoriously a few moments later, balancing a few turkey sandwiches and ever-so-kindly handing me a MoonPie.

The lunch line reminded me of a church potluck—volunteers spooned every non-green salad (potato, egg, coleslaw) into my to-go box. At the white plastic tables, I overheard gossip about which stars attracted groupies, saw headlining artists casually hanging out—I was particularly starstruck when I realized that Canadian folk artist Bella White was lingering by the refrigerator—and watched Eliza in her professional element. At one point, I commented something silly along the lines of “dude, you’re networking up a storm,” to which she responded completely seriously, “I mean, yeah, this is work for me.”

Near the end of the day, I was preparing to join the long bathroom line when Eliza told me to hurry up so she could teach me how to two-step. I, of course, raced back, and we danced (the two-step is truly as easy as it sounds) to North Carolina native Jim Lauderdale’s afternoon set. Thousands of folks were in the audience beyond as we giggled and encouraged other folks in the more or less hidden area behind the stage to join our dancing circle. Eliza has a way of making you feel special. Dancing to Lauderdale’s drawling tunes in that humid May evening, I could feel how special the festival was for not only Eliza but for the preserving of that “traditional-plus” genre.

Outside of her longtime run as a MerleFest attendee and artist, Eliza studies American Studies and Music at UNC-CH, with concentrations in folklore studies and ethnomusicology respectively; she hopes to dedicate her professional life, too, to preserving the traditional music of North Carolina. She sings and plays fiddle, guitar, and banjo in the popular UNC-CH Bluegrass Ensemble. She was also involved in a recent concert series at the North Carolina Museum of History that celebrated women in country music. Eliza’s confidence lends to a powerful presence on stage and off. Inspired by her mom’s Appalachian heritage and own love for the music, she was hooked at age eight: “it was truly intoxicating,” she said. She’s twenty now, and in an industry that’s dominated by older men, Eliza’s passion and willingness to share her talent is essential to preserving the traditional music that’s near to her heart and her family.

“All that stuff about heritage can get weird pretty fast,” Eliza said, “But you can trace [traditional music] back into the history of this country, and you can see how far it's come, how it's evolved to be where it is. It’s nice that people still care about it.”

Before anything else, old-time music is music for communities made by the community—it’s played on front porches, at square dances, and on street corners.

“When I moved away from the mountains, it was very important for me to keep that part of who I am,” Staci said. She’s thrilled that Eliza so easily took to the genre at a young age.

“She was just mesmerized by the music that she heard,” Staci said. “She could hardly talk, but she knew she was going to sing.”

In her youth life, Eliza built relationships with musicians in Mount Airy, North Carolina—her parents would drive her there a few times a month—learning their traditions first-hand. The person-to-person learning experience is why she chose to study folklore at UNC-CH and the reason that traditional music is so exciting for her.

“I got to experience it even though I didn't live there, which was really neat,” Eliza said. “Now I go on my own…I built those relationships, and they mentored me and they shared their tradition with me because I was interested in learning.”

In Mount Airy, Eliza learned Round Peak, a style of clawhammer banjo characterized by intricate picking patterns. While she’s well-known for her love of the banjo (her Instagram handle is @elizabanjo), the first instrument she fell in love with was the fiddle.

When Staci was a young child, her great grandfather’s porch in the foothills of South Carolina was where everyone would gather to play music. Eliza’s the only fiddle player in the family, so she got his fiddle.

“It was the music of the mountains,” Staci said. “It’s fitting that [Eliza] has his fiddle.”

Staci first took Eliza to MerleFest when she was in a stroller. Staci’s workplace has always provided funding for the festival, meaning she could snag a few extra tickets each year. In her professional life, she has been a catalyst for preserving the traditions of North Carolina.

“It’s a very big story. It’s not just a music story,” Staci said. “I’ve sort of dedicated my adult career to preserving and promoting culture, so it’s nice to see [Eliza] do it in a totally different way…it’s really been rewarding to watch her do that.”

Chloe Winchester and Duncan MacMillan, who play guitar and banjo respectively in the UNC-CH Bluegrass Band, enjoy the collaborative aspect of the bluegrass band and have loved learning from Eliza, though she’s also just a student.

Winchester and Eliza were in the same “sub-ensemble” this past year; Winchester said that thanks to her background in so many types of music, Eliza is a natural leader.

“Her knowledge just kind of comes out in the way she plays and helps people,” Winchester said. “I don’t think she means to be a leader, but she is anyway.”

Winchester said that Eliza works closely with them on harmonies and successfully balances praise and constructive criticism, all tactics Eliza said were employed by her own teachers and role-models throughout the years.

MacMillan, who, like Eliza, is a longtime MerleFest attendee, was upset that their bluegrass concert was scheduled on the Friday night of MerleFest: “it’s the biggest blunder in scheduling of all time probably.” Without the yearly MerleFest experience reminding him of his love for bluegrass, he wouldn’t have been inspired to join the ensemble.

“I’ve been going to MerleFest every year of my life, like, literally every single one that’s happened since I was born,” Macmillan said. He’d seen Eliza perform last year, and this year, he and Winchester enjoyed getting to see her gallivanting around the festival.

“When I was walking around with her, she was just saying hi to a bunch of famous people,” Winchester said. “Like, yeah, I’m just like, tight with all of these absolute legends.”

Hank Smith, a banjo instructor at UNC-CH, worked with Eliza last Fall to help her hone in her three-finger—bluegrass style—banjo skills. Smith loves the banjo and enjoyed getting to teach Eliza a different style on the instrument with which they’re both so familiar.

“I think [the banjo] sounds cool no matter what,” Smith said. “Not to mention, it really is as much fun as it looks…you know, there’s really not much that I don’t like about it.” (His only qualm is with how heavy the instrument can get).

He knew Meyer when she was in high school working on her album (she released “Hello Stranger” in 2020). The bluegrass community in North Carolina is close-knit.

Eliza had spent the night before I arrived for Sunday’s festivities jamming in the Wilkesboro Holiday Inn Lobby with many of her music friends. She told me that MerleFest is an important time of year to make connections, due to the size and reputation of the festival. Out of the seven players in the lobby, Meyer was the only female and the youngest by far, yet that didn’t stop her from holding her ground.

“It’s obviously her comfort zone,” said Kara Leinfelder, who was one of twenty or so folks who hung around the lobby enjoying the music, “for her to be able to navigate through and talk to and learn from and collaborate with artists of all different ages.”

Leinfelder is no stranger to Meyer’s “old-soul” taking charge in traditional music spaces. This April, Meyer opened for the finale concert in a series celebrating the Power of Women in Country Music exhibit at the NC Museum of History. As the Creative Director for the North Carolina Museum of History, Leinfelder works to bring exhibits and promote community engagement. She came across the Power of Women in Country Music from the Grammy Museum while researching traveling exhibits, and she secured it for the museum from October 2022 to this April.

The show featured three very successful traditional music players, Kay Justice, Alice Gerrard, and Ginny Hawker, all of whom were instrumental in affixing Meyer’s emerging interest in old-time music.

“There’s so much storytelling involved in that kind of music,” Leinfelder said, “and I think that music is such a great segue for people to understand history…I’m really excited to be able to use that as a mechanism for community.”

In the concert, Meyer concluded her opening set by singing “Little Rosewood Casquet” with Hawker, which she’d remembered Hawker teaching her in a workshop almost twelve years ago.

“I showed up for the first day, and she said, ‘I’m sorry, you are too young to be in this group. This is for people who really, really want to learn how to sing,’” Meyer said. “I said, ‘Ms. Ginny, I really want to learn how to sing.…Please, let me stay.’ And she said, ‘alright, I’m watching you…' and ya know, I held it together for an 8-year-old.” Singing “Little Rosewood Casquet” with Hawker once again was a “tear-jerkingly” full-circle moment for Meyer.

“I was feeling proud to be the type of musician I am, proud of the genre that I’ve chosen to perform in,” Meyer said. “I was feeling really grateful to them for supporting me so much and teaching me their ways and their songs and their secrets.”

Never drink milk before you sing, or you’ll get a frog in your throat. When you’re on the road, always bring an extra pair of shoes; you don’t want to get stuck in your cowboy boots. Always keep three cough drops in your guitar case. Important bits and pieces you can’t learn without the doing aspect, without person-to-person interaction. Without investing in relationships, careful listening and replication and then passing it on in a unique way.