Meredith Disney-Walford

At 19, Meredith Disney-Walford is already building a reputation for blending technical guitar prowess with polished hip-hop production and introspective songwriting. Based in London and currently studying at Trinity Laban, Meredith’s debut EP, the child you created but you never could love, is a genre-defying statement of intent — a visceral, cathartic body of work that bridges emo vulnerability, explosive rock energy and the precision of hip-hop beats.

Her musical roots run deep — from hearing the guitar solo in Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Californication” at age 6 to discovering the confessional lyricism of emo and the punch of The Marshall Mathers LP at 14. That passion, mixed with formal training and years spent writing, performing, and refining her sound, has led to a project that feels like her truest self: unapologetically complex, emotionally raw, and sonically bold.

We sat down with Meredith to talk about sonic fusion, live performance, and why authenticity always cuts through.

Your sound fuses intricate rock guitar with polished hip-hop production — how did that blend come about, and what drew you to those two worlds?Honestly, it’s just everything I love about music. Complex, wall-of-sound guitars, tight hip-hop beats — if I were condensed into a sound wave, it would be this EP. I first picked up a guitar after hearing the solo on “Californication” as a kid. That was it for me. Later, I found hip-hop — The Marshall Mathers LP was my gateway — and dove into that world like I had with rock. I also discovered emo around 14, and the emotional honesty in that scene made me want to write my own music. Mixing all those influences felt chaotic on paper, but in practice, it just made perfect sense.

Your debut EP, the child you created but you never could love, has such a striking title — can you talk us through the emotional journey behind it?It came out of a songwriting assignment using ekphrasis — writing inspired by visual art. I saw da Vinci’s The Last Supper and immediately that line came to mind. I was raised Christian but I’m now an atheist, and that track became this stream-of-consciousness goodbye to faith during a really dark mental health period. It started as a live demo, but when I rediscovered it, it still hit — so I fully produced it. Both the demo and studio version are on the EP. It became the anchor for the whole record.

You took time after On the Record to refine your sound — what changed creatively or personally during that period of self-development?I was really young during On the Record — only 16 or 17 — and had just started writing. Most artists experiment before releasing. I did it backwards. After the project, I stepped back to figure out who I was and what I actually wanted to say. I even thought I might go down the session guitarist route for a while, so I focused hard on technique, got my Grade 8 Distinction, and dove into complex jazz-rock fusion. But by 2024, I knew I wanted to release music that fully embodied me — all of me, not just the guitarist.

You’ve already performed across major festivals and Pride events — how does live performance shape your writing and production process?No matter the project — solo, bands, collabs — I always start with an acoustic and a notebook. I can’t mix and write at the same time or I get sensory overload, so it’s all in stages. My early gigs were me, an acoustic, and a looper — even when I was performing tracks from On the Record. I haven't played the new solo material live yet (outside of a few masterclasses), but translating it is my next big challenge. I want the energy of a live rock band, but also don’t want to lose the hip-hop production that gives the songs their texture. It’s about finding that balance — making sure what hits in headphones still hits in the room.

What advice would you give to young, emerging artists trying to carve out their own sound in an oversaturated industry?Make the music you actually care about. Take the time to experiment and find your sound. People can tell when something’s manufactured or trending just for the sake of it. I’d rather have a small group of real fans who love what I do than a massive following that forgets my name the second I pop up. Authenticity always cuts through. Always.