Galax Old-Time Mountain Music: Learned By Ear, Sung With Heart

Jam Kids performing Galax Old Time Mountain Music. Image: Chestnut Creek School of the Arts

He’s eleven, holding a mandolin that’s older than he is. The tune he’s picking is older still. In Galax, kids don’t just learn music—they inherit it. They learn the same way their grandparents did: by ear, through repetition, and by watching someone who already knows the tune. That’s how Galax old-time mountain music survives—not because it’s been preserved in a book, but because it’s been carried forward one player at a time, by heart.

That simple act—listening, then playing—has become the foundation of a teaching tradition as enduring as the music itself. It’s not formal instruction in the usual sense, but something closer to conversation, where tunes are passed along like spoken language. And it’s a method today’s music educators are working to understand.

A Language You Hear Before You Read

The process may look simple, but it’s rooted in something profound. It’s how human beings learn language: by ear, imitation, and repetition. Music education experts call this the “mother tongue” approach, and it’s the foundation of respected methods like Kodály and Suzuki.

In the Junior Appalachian Musicians program—known around here as JAM—students don’t start with notes on a page. They start by listening. Then listening again. Then trying.

Galax Jam Program director Lindsey Nale and a Jam student. Image: Chestnut Creek School of the Arts.

JAM: A Tradition You Can Join

The Junior Appalachian Musicians program began in North Carolina in 2000, founded by Helen White. But it found especially fertile ground in Galax, where support from musicians, schools, and community leaders helped it thrive. Today, the program reaches kids across the region, giving them access to instruments, instruction, and an identity tied to this place.

Fiddle, banjo, mandolin, guitar, and even Appalachian dance are all on the menu. Instruction happens in small groups with low student-to-teacher ratios, often taught by working musicians and tradition-bearers. And the music they’re learning isn’t just a generic blend of bluegrass and folk; it’s local. Galax old-time mountain music has its own style, its own swing, and its own legacy.

That legacy is one students are proud to carry. Over the years, Galax JAM kids have played on stages most adult musicians only dream about—performing with artists like Ricky Skaggs, Rhonda Vincent, and Roni Stoneman. But what matters more than the marquee names is the message: the next generation has a seat at the circle.

Galax Old Fiddlers Convention performers — In Galax, established players happily share the stage with their young conterparts.

The Circle Gets a Spotlight

Every August, that circle widens as thousands gather for the Galax Old Fiddlers’ Convention, the country’s oldest and largest event of its kind. Youth categories are a staple of the schedule. Still, some of the best moments happen outside the spotlight—under the shade of a tent or the glow of a lantern, where JAM students carry the tunes forward in their own time.

It’s here that the connection becomes most visible. You’ll see ten-year-olds playing alongside eighty-year-olds, tunes shared between strangers. There’s no agenda except to keep the music going. And in Galax, it does.

Old-Time Mountain Music’s Living Soundtrack

In a time when most kids are buried in screens and algorithms, Galax offers something different: community, continuity, and a kind of music you can’t download. This music only makes sense when it’s in your hands—when you’re inside the rhythm.

This is music that grew out of work and worship, out of sorrow and celebration. It survived not because it was polished, but because it was portable. And it still is. Today’s students take it to festivals, street corners, and nursing homes. Tomorrow, they’ll take it to their own porches.

welcome to galax sign — Visitors quickly discover that music in Galax is more than just fiddles and banjos.

By Ear. By Heart.

Galax old-time mountain music isn’t just part of the past—it’s part of a living tradition, kept alive by people who care enough to teach it the way it’s meant to be taught. Not as a relic, but as a language. Not on paper, but in the air.

So, if you find yourself in Galax sometime soon, follow the sound of a fiddle. It might lead you to a festival, a street jam, or the main stage of the Rex Theater. Wherever it leads, you’ll hear something rare: a culture that still remembers how to share its traditions.

Wayne Jordan is a Galax-based writer and storyteller. His Scots-Irish ancestors settled in the Blue Ridge Mountains in 1760, and he has deep roots there. The author of four books, Wayne is a retired Senior Editor for WorthPoint Corporation, a long-time columnist for Kovels Antique Trader Magazine, and a contributor to regional newspapers and travel publications. He blogs at BlueRidgeTales.com.