My Music Row Story: G Major Mgmt’s Virginia Bunetta

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Virginia Bunetta. Photo: Mary Craven Dawkins

Since 2011, Virginia Bunetta has overseen the career of Thomas Rhett, including partnering with the singer and his father/fellow hitmaker, Rhett Akins, to launch Home Team Publishing as a partnership with Warner Chappell.

Bunetta’s career began at NSAI, followed by time at WBR/RAYBAW Records and Irving Azoff’s Front Line Management managing Jewel. She has been honored as a MusicRow Rising Women on the Row, a Billboard Nashville Power Player and by HITS Magazine.

Photo: Courtesy of Bunetta

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I grew up in West Virginia. I moved to South Carolina and Los Angeles for college and then to Nashville in January of 2002.

Were you a country music fan?

Oh yeah. I grew up listening to Crystal Gayle. Country music was such a big part of our household. I’m from Appalachia—six miles down a dirt road, across two creeks. We had 500 acres, a horse farm and had a garden we worked and ate from. I grew up in the country.

Were you always planning to work in music?

I always knew I wanted to run my own business but I didn’t really know what I wanted to do specifically. I knew I wanted to work around music—not necessarily in it as a musician. I went to business school and started doing a little PR work after moving to Nashville. Susan Stewart was at NSAI at the time, and she hired me as the marketing director which was my first job in the industry.

What was that experience like?

I worked there for about two years and helped with Tin Pan South and sponsorships. That’s where I really got to know songwriters and started to understand that songwriting is the central nervous system of the Nashville community. Everything truly begins with the song, and with the songwriter.

After that, I was hired to run a joint venture label at Warner Bros. Records and worked on Cowboy Troy, John Anderson and James Otto. That was where I really learned the ins and outs of the record label side. It was right before labels started doing 360 deals, so everyone was watching digital downloads become part of how consumers got their music. I saw that shift happening firsthand. I realized I wanted to move into management because at the label, I only had control over one part of the artist’s career. I wanted to see the bigger picture and help guide the whole thing.

Photo: Courtesy of Bunetta

So how did that transition into management happen?

Jewel called me and asked me to be her manager. I flew out to meet with Irving Azoff, and he hired me.

That’s quite a leap. What was it like working with Jewel?

She’s so prolific—an incredible songwriter and singer. She can captivate a room with just her guitar and voice like no one I’ve ever seen. She’s truly phenomenal.

So what came next—was that when you started working with Thomas Rhett?

Yes. In Nashville, managers often get calls from publishers or friends saying, “I’ve got this new act. Will you meet with them?” That’s how it used to happen. Around that time, Ben Vaughn, who was at EMI Publishing sent me some demos from Thomas Rhett. He was maybe 19 or 20 and still a student at Lipscomb. I already knew his dad, Rhett, from the songwriting world.

Even then, Thomas Rhett’s songwriting was so evolved for his age. It felt real and genuine. So I signed him to management around 2011, and I remember telling myself I really needed to focus our attention as a company on breaking this act. That became our priority, and still is.

Photo: Courtesy of Bunetta

What do you remember about those early days with him?

Every year we sit down and say, “If we had a magic wand, what would we want this career to look like in a year?” Then we work backward from there. Fenway Park was on that list early on. He’s checked so many boxes—Entertainer of the Year, Male Artist of the Year, all the award show moments, all the songs going No. 1—but Fenway was the one we hadn’t done until last year. And I know there will be more.

I’ve watched him grow from a young, emerging artist learning his craft into this incredible, consummate professional. He’s exactly what you see: kind, genuine, a wonderful husband and father. I feel really lucky to work with someone like that and to have witnessed his evolution.

You’ve been together a long time, which isn’t always common in artist-manager relationships. How have you made that last?

I think management is different from some of the other areas of the business because we have to wake up every day and earn it. Managers don’t own assets in the traditional sense, so the dynamic keeps us sharp. It’s kept me investing in him, expanding my team and growing alongside his career.

G Major has built support around digital marketing, analytics and data—having people who can give us insights so we can make the best decisions for him. I really believe in him as both an artist and a writer, and that belief keeps me motivated.

You’re TR’s manager, but you’re also a leader at G Major Entertainment. What has it been like to lead a company as a woman in this business?

I feel like leadership is service. Whether you’re male or female, you’re serving the people you lead. That’s how I approach it. For me, that also means being honest about who I am, including my role as a mother, and not apologizing for it.

It’s not easy, but I think when you’re living in a way that’s most truthful to you, it rarely is. But it’s worth it. I think we’re in a time now where women are more empowered to live that way.

Photo: Corey Miller

That’s such a healthy example to set. How do you manage to be successful and live with boundaries?

I have a great team who can fill in the blanks when I’m away. And I have an artist who understands the value of my work here and my work as a mom at home. That makes all the difference.

What’s your favorite part of what you do now?

I love hearing new songs right after they’ve been written, when the artist is so excited to share them with the world. Even though I’m on the business side, management is actually very creative.

We get to take the music and, alongside the label and booking team, design the kaleidoscope of an artist’s year. There are so many moving parts, but we get to dream up creative campaigns around songs no one’s heard yet. And then to see one of those songs take off—or to see something like the Thomas Rhett and Teddy Swims collaboration come to life—is just incredible.

Who have been some of your mentors?

So many. I think “mentor” is an interesting word, though. I tend to think of people as guides, both in and outside of music. Marion Kraft is someone I really admire. When I’m stuck and need advice, I’ll call her.

There are also guides outside of music. For example, Martha Beck has a book called The Way of Integrity that I love. I also love Brene Brown’s book on leadership Dare to Lead. At G Major the staff actually read books on business together—like the Brene Brown one—as part of our year end work.

Photo: Corey Miller

What’s some of the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

Irving Azoff once told me not to over-sign—he said, “Don’t sign a bunch of stuff. Sign what you think you can break and break it.” I’ve carried that with me ever since.

Another guide for me is the poet Mary Oliver. When I read her or Martha Beck, I’m struck by how thoughtful and honest and present they are. I’m striving to be more of that in my next season.

Something I want to stress that maybe other women need to hear is that everything in life and in business is in a season. For me, the season to double down on building a company and breaking acts was in my 20s and 30s. In my 40s, I find myself tending to and caring for my existing obligations—nurturing my staff, the artists’ career that I was a part of since day one [TR] and is now a massive organization, and most importantly, be a present wife and mother to my two small daughters at home. I go out at night less and travel only when necessary. I know I’m missing opportunities to grow and sign and hustle, and it’s okay. It is not the season for that for me. I know other seasons lie ahead but this one is precious and just as important as the ones that came before. So be gentle and kind to yourself and be patient—and know what season you are in.

My Music Row Story: Tony Brown

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Tony Brown

With over 100 No. 1 hits under his belt, Tony Brown been the architect behind the success of legends like George Strait, Reba McEntire, Vince Gill, Trisha Yearwood and Brooks & Dunn—blending traditional country with pop and rock to reshape the genre for the modern era.

Before he became a hit record producer and A&R executive, Brown toured as the keyboardist for Elvis Presley’s TCB Band, giving him a front-row seat to music history. He later became president of MCA Nashville, nurturing some of the most iconic voices in American music.

Later this month, Brown will join the Country Music Hall of Fame in the Non-Performer category.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I grew up in North Carolina. My dad was an evangelist, so I played in a family singing group and that got me into music.

Did you sing and play an instrument?

I sang mainly. Then I learned to play the piano at the age of 13, and that became my focus for the rest of my life. I ended up being a musician for Southern gospel music. I moved to Nashville for that reason, as a gospel music piano player.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

How did you get your career started once you were in Nashville?

When I came here, I already knew nothing about country music or any other music except gospel music, so I wasn’t fascinated by the fact that this was a country music town.

Through my gospel music connections, I got a job with Elvis Presley playing in a gospel group. He loved to sing gospel music, so he hired us to be on call 24/7 to come to his house and sing gospel music.

Eventually I found out that the piano player in Elvis’ band was leaving to go play with Emmylou Harris, so I hustled for the job and got it. Ultimately I played for Elvis for three years until he passed away—a year and a half in the gospel group for his house and a year and a half in his TCB band.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

What did you do next?

I came back to Nashville and David Briggs, another one of Elvis’ piano players, said, “Why don’t you pitch songs for my publishing company while you find another job?” So that’s what I did. I started pitching songs and finding out about the country music world.

I had been doing that for about six months when I got a call from Emmylou Harris’ manager that the piano player, Glen D [Hardin], had quit and gone with John Denver. They wanted me to come and audition. So I went and bought her record—I wanted to see why Glen D quit Elvis in the first place. I loved her record Pieces Of The Sky. I went to audition and got it. I was there for a couple years, and then she got pregnant and decided to get off the road for a while.

Then I joined Rodney Crowell’s band when he got a record deal with Warner Bros. We played clubs up and down the California coast. Sometimes we’d make a dollar, sometimes we’d make nothing—I didn’t care. I was just part of something cool.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

Then Rodney marries Roseanne Cash, so we became her band too. I was being introduced to country music world. I became part of that little clique. Eventually Rodney had to call it, and I called David Briggs and asked for my job back.

How did you move over to the business side of things?

Once I was back in Nashville, I told David I needed to get a “real job.” He said, “RCA just had this big hit on a record called The Outlaws. It’s the first Platinum album in the country music. They’re giving Jerry Bradley a pop label in L.A. Jerry hates pop music, and they’re trying to shove all these New York A&R guys down his throat. I’ll suggest he hires you.”

He did. I got that job, moved to L.A. I was there a couple of years before it folded, then I came back to Nashville and started working for RCA here. I saw Alabama play the CRS New Faces of Country Music show and signed them, and we were off.

Soon you moved over to MCA. Tell me about that.

I heard that Jimmy Bowen was taking over MCA. He was at Warner Bros. at the time and was producing Hank Jr., Conway Twitty and all the big acts. My attorney advised me to go chase a job there.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

I got hired to play B3 on a Hank Jr. record by Jimmy Bowen. The thing is, I don’t play B3. I play piano—I’m just a hustler, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull it off. [The engineer] said, “Jimmy Bowen wants to see you upstairs.” I go up there and say, “Okay, I confess. I’m not a B3 player. I just came because you’re a Jimmy Bowen.” He said, “Well, I didn’t hire you for this session to play B3. I hired you because I’m taking over MCA and I need an A&R guy. I think you’re the guy.”

He said he would train me to be a producer, but to not tell anyone or he’d have me killed. [Laughs] So when it finally happened, and Jimmy Bowen took over MCA, I got the job.

Tell me about learning to produce.

Jimmy had me co-produce with a few acts with him at first. Eventually he said, “Go find me some new stuff. I’ll produce all the stars like the Oak Ridge Boys, George Strait and Reba McEntire. You find something new.” So I found Patty Loveless, Steve Earle and Lyle Lovett. Eventually I signed The Mavericks and some other stuff, but then Jimmy Bowen left to go to Capitol, so I inherited George Strait and Reba McEntire.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

The first album that I did on George was Pure Country. I was so nervous, but it sold like crazy. We cut “Fancy” on Reba, and it was huge. Out of all the records I’ve done—and I’ve done 37 No. 1s on George Strait—I think the biggest hit I’ve ever cut was “Fancy.” Everybody knows that song.

I started working on Brooks & Dunn and Vince Gill, and they became huge. I started feeling confident about production. I did Trisha Yearwood’s version of “How Do I Live” and won the Grammy. A lot of good things started happening to me.

You became very successful.

I got my feet planted pretty good at MCA. I was there 25 years. I became their first VP of A&R, and then got promoted to Sr. VP and Executive VP. I eventually became President. People say I ran MCA—I didn’t run MCA. I had the title of President, but I was just an A&R guy and a producer.

In 2000 or so, Doug Morris at Universal offered me my own label. I didn’t think I was smart enough to run a label, so I needed some help. Tim Dubois had left Arista, so I called him and asked if he would help me run Universal South.

It didn’t do very good. We lasted five years and had one Gold record with Joe Nichols. I don’t think I produced one hit record there. I was so involved in trying to help run the label that I quit producing.

Photo: Courtesy of Brown

Eventually, I went back independent and I’m glad I did. The business is so different now. With streaming, it takes too much to get a plaque these days.

When you started producing records, what did you want your legacy to be?

After I got out of gospel music, I became engrossed in country music. All my friends were in country music. All my friends were country songwriters playing. Rodney Crowell introduced me to a whole other set of people, like Guy Clark and John Prine. I was in that world, and then there was a whole other mainstream world of Bob DiPiero and Gary Burr that I was involved with, too. I started seeing these two different camps going on—one was kind of cooler and one made you money. I started asking myself, how can I be in both?

When I was producing Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett and Nanci Griffith, I remember going to South by Southwest. A newspaper person wanted to interview me there, and they said, “I heard you’re now producing Reba McEntire.” For a second, I was embarrassed. I felt like I had “sold out.” That’s how stupid and full of myself I was. I learned a lot during that period. For some of those artists, it doesn’t matter how much they sell. It’s all about the art. But I like a little bit of both—I want to cut records that are hit records.

You’re going to be inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame later this month. How do you feel about that?

It’s something I’ve wanted, but I figured one day after I passed away, maybe I’d get in there. There’s so many people that should be in there, but when I found out I was going in, I didn’t believe it. I thought they had made a mistake or called the wrong number. But I think what got me in there was what I just explained about loving everything: the art and the commerciality of it.

I’m hoping I can make it through night without crying. [Laughs] I love that I’m going in with Kenny Chesney and June Carter Cash—that’s a lot of art and a lot of commerce.

My Music Row Story: Riser House Entertainment’s Jennifer Johnson

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Jennifer Johnson

Jennifer Johnson never intended to have a career in the music industry. President of Riser House Entertainment, Johnson spent several years as an analytical chemist working at a chemical plant. After her childhood home burned to the ground, she started working at age nine for her uncle, who owned a machine shop in Louisiana. For a time following the fire, she lived in her family’s tractor shed with a dirt floor and no running water.

Johnson was interested in music initially as a songwriter and quickly learned she had a greater love of music publishing. She finally made the move to Nashville to work as an independent song plugger.

In 2008, Johnson launched the publishing company, The Song Factory. The first artist-writer she signed was Jon Pardi. Dustin Lynch, Ashley McBryde and Dillon Carmichael followed.

Riser House Entertainment was launched in 2017 by co-founders Matt Swanson, Mitchell Tenpenny and Johnson with the goal to create music that stands the test of time. Since its formation, the company has blossomed into a full-service record label and publishing house. Riser House Entertainment has amassed more than four billion combined on-demand streams, 11 No. 1 songs, and participated in over 20 RIAA-certified Gold or Platinum singles and albums.

Riser House’s roster includes Tenpenny, Carmichael, Meghan Patrick, LANCO, Stephen Day, The Wldlfe, Ash Ruder and COILER. Both Tenpenny and Carmichael are also signed to the company’s publishing umbrella, alongside Michael Whitworth, Dallas Wilson, Jake Mitchell, Aaron Armstorng and Chandler Baldwin.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I grew up in Rayville, Louisiana. It’s a tiny town with just one stoplight. Funny enough, it was only one town over from where Lainey Wilson grew up. My dad was a bricklayer and my mom was a dietician.

When I was about nine, our house burned down. After that, we moved into a tractor shed with a dirt floor, an outhouse in the woods—my dad would build fires outside for heat. My family never really recovered financially, so I started working in my uncle’s machine shop at nine years old.

I ended up starting college at 16 and graduated with a chemistry degree, minoring in math and physics.

Wow. Tell me about that.

I worked as an analytical chemist at a small chemical plant in Louisiana called Angus, which was a subsidiary of Dow. I thought I was headed toward medical school, but once I got married and started having kids, I realized the medical field wouldn’t allow me the time I wanted with my family. So I stayed home, still did some chemistry work, and that’s when I started writing songs.

I joined a local Country Music Showdown, got connected with the Nashville Songwriters Association International (NSAI) in New Orleans, and met songwriter Jim McCormick. He sent me a pitch sheet listing artists like George Strait and Keith Urban who were looking for songs.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

So I cold-called every single record label on that sheet, asking for meetings to pitch songs from the writers I’d met. Shockingly, I got meetings with everyone I called.

And then you were in the music business!

Through Jim, I got more pitch sheets and started calling every producer and label listed. Rusty Gaston was running a publishing company called The Song Garden then, and when I brought him songs, he told me, “If you have all these meetings, don’t just bring good songs. Bring great ones. First impressions matter.”

So I called every songwriter I knew and ended up with hundreds of songs. I listened to each one—just verse and chorus—and narrowed it down to eight songs on a single CD.

My first big meeting was at Capitol Records with Larry Willoughby. He actually put several songs on hold, and I didn’t even know what a “hold” was at the time. I just knew I needed my CD back because I had nine more meetings that week! [Laughs]

But that’s how it started. I wasn’t officially a publisher yet—I was just representing other catalogs and pitching songs independently.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

How did you become a publisher, officially?

Eventually, I met this guy from Arkansas who had written with a new songwriter in town, a kid from California named Jon Pardi. He came to my office, stomped his boots on the floor, played me his songs, and I thought, “This guy is a force.”

I told him, “I’m starting a publishing company. Want to be my first writer?” He said yes, and he even named the company: The Song Factory. That was the official start of my career as a music publisher.

Because I had been representing hit writers for a while, I was able to connect him with the right co-writers. That only amplified what he was already doing and helped him write even more songs in a shorter amount of time.

Tell me about building The Song Factory.

I started signing writers like Bart Butler, who was writing with Jon. Bart later became Jon’s producer for several albums. We were also working with early-career artists like Ashley McBryde and Dustin Lynch.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

Soon you started Riser House Entertainment.

Someone brought me a CD of this artist with a voice unlike anything I’d ever heard. It was Mitchell Tenpenny. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was really an artist, he thought of himself more as a songwriter. Once I heard him, I said, “Oh no, you are absolutely an artist.”

Mitchell introduced me to Matt Swanson, a gentleman from California who had believed in him from the start. Matt was in agriculture—totally down to earth—and when we met, I knew he wasn’t in this just to make a buck. He was passionate, like this was a calling.

Together, we launched Riser House almost 10 years ago. We started with publishing—our first writer was Michael Whitworth, then Dallas Wilson, who now has hits with Lainey Wilson and Dylan Scott. We also secured publishing with Mitchell himself.

At the very beginning, it was just me, Jason Van Auken, and three interns. Those interns have since gone on to do incredible things in the music industry, which has been so rewarding to watch. It’s not just the artists whose careers we’ve been able to help build—it’s the young people behind the scenes too.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

You guys have really scaled your business in the last few years. What do you see for the company in the next five or 10?

We’re a boutique music company, and that’s intentional. We’re not chasing market share or algorithms or trends. Of course, we want to be a successful business—but our passion starts with the music. We want to help artists achieve whatever their goals are: Grammys, sold-out arenas, stadium tours or simply leaving a positive mark on the culture. I think if we stay committed to that, we will be successful.

What is your favorite part of your job now?

Oh gosh—there’s so much. I’ve had to learn everything from radio to record promotion, which was brand new for me coming from publishing. Watching the whole journey—from working with songwriters early on, to seeing artists record albums, get record deals, build fan bases, go on tour, form brand partnerships, and eventually sell out arenas—it’s been unbelievable.

I’ve learned that you can want it so badly for an artist, you can make all these brilliant plans, but at the end of the day, sometimes you’re simply part of a bigger journey. I truly believe God places you there, and if you’re fortunate enough to play even a small role, that’s a gift. My job is to be the best steward of that journey I can be.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

Is there anything from your chemistry background that you bring into what you do now?

In a philosophical sense, yes. There’s an alchemy to the music business—to how people work together. Watching writers like Dallas Wilson, Lainey Wilson, and Trannie Anderson come together was pure magic. Sometimes your role is just to help artists and writers find each other and create that spark.

Do you have any mentors who have helped you along the way?

Absolutely. My first mentor was Joe Boyland, who brokered catalogs and taught me everything about publishing on the backend like royalties, contracts, deals. That knowledge gave me the confidence to start my own company.

I never studied music business formally, so Joe was my crash course in the business side of the industry. He also taught me to be fair and keep my word no matter what.

There have been so many others I could call for advice over the years—Jon Loba, Scott Borchetta, Bill Mayne. I’ve been fortunate to have people willing to give their time and guidance.

Photo: Courtesy of Johnson

What’s a moment your younger self would find surreal?

Growing up in Louisiana, things were hard. We could have never afforded concert tickets. People worked long, blue-collar hours and talked about artists like Garth Brooks, but most never got to see a show.

Now, I get to experience music from the inside—whether it’s hearing a brand-new song in the writing room, watching Jon Pardi sell out his first arena, seeing Mitchell Tenpenny play to a crowd singing every word, or celebrating when our writers are nominated for Grammys.

I always remind myself: I have a ticket now. I’m not on the outside hearing about the show on Monday morning. I’m part of it, and I thank God for that every day.

What advice would you give someone who’s in a completely different career but wants to break into the music business?

Sometimes it’s a calling. You don’t have to know everything—or anything, really. If you feel that excitement, that passion, lean in and follow the joy. Jump in. The rest will come.

My Music Row Story: Big Loud’s Sara Knabe

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Sara Knabe. Photo: Brayln Kelly Smith

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Industry veteran Sara Knabe is SVP of A&R at Big Loud, where she works in tandem with both the Big Loud Records and Big Loud Publishing A&R teams, leading across both.

She joined Big Loud in 2023, after spending just under a year founding and cultivating her own Cake Maker Music, a music publishing, artist development and A&R consulting company. Prior to that, Knabe was VP of A&R at BBR Music Group, VP of Creative at BMG Music Publishing, and had prior career stops at Bug Music, Windswept Holdings, LLC and Harlan Howard Songs. Knabe is a Belmont University graduate.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I grew up in Jackson, Missouri, but I moved here in 2001. So I’ve been in Nashville for 24 years now.

What was your childhood like? What were you into?

I was a pastor’s kid, so we moved around a bit. Jackson is where I went to high school, but my childhood was the typical preacher’s kid experience — loud and a little chaotic. I was obsessed with both music and sports. Volleyball was my sport, but I was also in band and choir. I was always listening to records and falling in love with songs.

We didn’t have many concerts come through town, but the Bootheel Rodeo in Sikeston was my place. Every summer I lived for that week. That was my concert experience growing up. I saw Kenny Chesney, Toby Keith, Clint Black, Lonestar, Jo Dee Messina and more there.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

What was your dream? Did you imagine yourself doing this back then?

I knew I wanted to work in music, but I had no idea what that looked like. I started college at Southeast Missouri State in ’99 as a vocal performance major, but I quickly realized I wasn’t good enough to make it as a singer. I switched to business.

Over Christmas break, my dad ran into someone I went to high school with who had moved to Nashville and was attending Belmont. She told us about the school, and I was like, wait — there’s a place you can go to actually study the music industry? I only knew about managers because I’d seen the movie Pure Country, so I came to Belmont thinking I’d be one.

On my first day, a professor asked if anyone knew what they wanted to do. I shot my hand up and said, “I want to be a manager and help artists find their songs.” He told me that was actually A&R or publishing. As soon as I heard about publishing, I was hooked.

What internships did you do?

I interned at EMI Publishing and with Scott Hendricks and Jason Krupeck in A&R. Jason let me sit in on all his meetings, which was huge — that’s where I met so many of my first publishing contacts.

I also interned at Teracel Music during peak Rascal Flatts, when Brett James was there as both an artist and writer, along with Mark Beeson, Philip White and others. It was an amazing environment.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

Then I got an internship at Harlan Howard Songs. Honestly, I didn’t know much about Harlan at the time. But he had just passed, and his friends would come by the office to sit in his chair, smoke cigars and tell stories. It was like a baptism into country music. I learned so much about songs, the history and the community. That internship turned into my first full-time job, and I stayed there four years.

What did you get to do there once you were full time?

I started as catalog manager and assistant to Melanie Howard. It was just the two of us, so I did a little bit of everything — front desk, admin, catalog recapture. I learned a ton about copyright and paperwork, especially on songs from the ’50s and ’60s.

But I knew I wanted to pitch songs. A few months in, I asked Melanie if I could start taking meetings when my work was done. She graciously said yes. My first pitch meeting was with Erv Woolsey for George Strait, and my second was with Scott Hendricks. Looking back, I probably didn’t pitch great songs that day, but what an opportunity.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

While I was there, we signed Lori McKenna and Mary Gauthier. Lori’s career exploded, and that opened every door for me. Artists were calling, fighting to hear her songs first. Having Harlan’s catalog gave me credibility, and Lori’s writing gave me access I probably hadn’t earned yet.

Melanie also included me in the Chicks With Hits meetings, which were like grad school for pitching. Those women were relentless about the songs they believed in, and the artists who walked into those offices blew my mind. I always say the Chicks With Hits raised me.

What was your next step?

Steve Markland hired me at Windswept Music Publishing, which was such a thrill. They were coming off a huge run of hits with Jeffrey Steele and Kendell Marvel, and they had Randy Houser, who was still looking for a record deal. That era was so fun — Tuesday nights at 12th & Porter with Randy, Jamey Johnson, Jared Neiman, Ken Johnson, Lee Brice… everyone was getting signed, playing shows, and hanging out. After work we’d bounce from Tin Roof to 12th & Porter to Douglas Corner to 3rd & Lindsley. The whole scene felt like it was rising together.

Windswept had that kind of culture. It was a hang — even if you didn’t write there, you could show up and know someone would be around. My very first day of work, everyone was at the Key West Songwriters Festival, so it was just me and the receptionist. I hadn’t met most of the writers yet, when I suddenly heard someone in the kitchen. This guy is loading beers into his cargo pockets at nine in the morning. I introduced myself: “Hi, I’m Sara, the new plugger.” He goes, “Oh, I don’t actually write here. I just knew you guys had beer. I’m writing across the street at Starstruck.” [Laughs] That was Windswept in a nutshell — open, fun and creative.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

Unfortunately, the company sold not long after I started. I was technically only at Windswept for about nine months before Bug Music bought them, and we became Bug Windswept for a while.

What was that transition like?

It was interesting because the two companies had very different approaches. Windswept was a creative, artist-development kind of place, while Bug was known more as an Americana-leaning administration company. But when they came together, it actually created a perfect mix.

I got to work with people like Darrell Scott, Buddy Miller and Jim Lauderdale, and catalogs from legends like Townes Van Zandt. At the same time, we had writers cutting songs for George Strait and Gary Allan, and Randy Houser as an artist. It gave me the chance to be part of both worlds, which was ideal for my ear.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

How long were you there?

Bug was eventually bought by BMG, and I stayed through all of that — from Windswept to Bug Windswept, then Bug, then BMG. All told, it was a 17-year run. I spent 12 years at BMG, seven on the publishing team and five at Broken Bow.

Tell me about working in publishing at BMG.

Those were some of the most fun years of my career. The catalog was incredible. Because I’d stayed on through the Windswept and Bug acquisitions, I had access to everything — Windswept, BMG, Cherry Lane, Stage Three, Corlew — all at my fingertips. For someone who loves digging for songs and finding homes for them, it was heaven.

I also worked with some amazing writers: Tony Lane, Wynn Varble, Ruston Kelly, Lucie Silvas, Emily Shackelton, Adam James… just a really strong creative group. And the team itself was great — Daniel Lee, Chris Oglesby, Kevin Lane — we had such good synergy. It was just fun.

And then you transitioned to the label side. Was that something you’d always imagined?

Not at all. I kind of fell into it and ended up loving it. When BMG bought Broken Bow, there were a couple of projects that needed to be wrapped up — a Runaway June record and a Joe Nichols record. They didn’t have a dedicated A&R team at the time, so I just started jumping in, mostly clueless but having fun.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

At first, I was suggesting names for the role, throwing out peers and friends, but meanwhile I was realizing how much I enjoyed the flip side — listening for songs, having those creative conversations. Publishing had shifted to being more calendar-driven: scheduling writes, managing rooms. That wasn’t my strength or passion. I’ve always loved the creative side — hearing songs and finding where they belong. Weirdly enough, A&R felt like a better fit for that than publishing had become.

So finally, I threw my own name in the mix. Jon Loba took a chance on me, and I’ll always be thankful for that. I jumped in not knowing much, just trying to figure it out. Honestly, I still feel like I’m figuring it out.

Do you have any early wins that gave you confidence?

I feel really lucky to have worked on the Lainey Wilson projects. But honestly, that was just about giving her the opportunity and staying out of her way.

Helping with those first two records was exciting, but she knew exactly who she wanted to be. My role was just narrowing down songs — going through hundreds and helping her land on the best 12 — and having ongoing conversations. From the beginning, I just trusted my gut. I loved her voice, her songwriting, and when I met her, I thought, this girl has everything she needs.

It’s been so fun to watch her career take off. I’m grateful to have played even a small part in her journey, but that’s all her. What I’ve learned is my job works best when I’m just championing talented people and giving them the runway to do their thing.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

Then you started a new chapter. Tell me about that.

During COVID, I burned out. I loved my time at Broken Bow — it was an exciting run with Lainey, Dustin Lynch, Jelly Roll early on — but being on Zoom from eight to six every day fried my brain. I wasn’t being the mom, wife, daughter or friend I wanted to be, and I didn’t feel like I was being the A&R I wanted to be either. After 20 years of hustling, I knew I needed a break.

I left with no real plan other than starting something that gave me more balance — which became Cake Maker. The idea was to create a space where I could help artists develop and get them to the point where they were ready for a label. I thought I’d take a year off, but three months in I was bored.

So I launched my consulting company. Around then, Seth [England] called. We’d known each other since he was my intern back at Harlan Howard Songs, and we’d worked together for years. He asked what I was doing, and I said, “I went to Costco twice today — I need a job.” He brought me on to consult for Big Loud, just listening for songs, and I loved it.

I also covered a maternity leave at Creative Nation, which was really important to me. I wanted to show that women can be working moms — it’s hard, you’ll never be perfect at it all, but you don’t have to “fail” at one thing to succeed at another. That idea is where the name Cake Maker came from: I wanted to make my cake and eat it too by creating the environment I needed.

You eventually joined Big Loud full time.

Big Loud’s philosophy of “best song wins” really resonated with me. Whether the artist wrote it or not, the bar is always high. And the environment is so creative — writers and artists are constantly hanging out, rising together.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

At first, I was hesitant to join full-time because I didn’t want to get overwhelmed again. Seth told me to call other SVPs with kids and ask them about work-life balance. Almost all of them had young families, and they said the culture allowed for it. We work hard, but if you need to leave for a baseball game, you go.

The moment that sealed it was going to Seth’s son’s birthday party. Everyone from the office was there with their kids. I left and cried in the car because I realized, this is the crew that gets what I’m trying to do.

So I joined Big Loud two years ago, and it’s been such a great fit. The team is fantastic, the roster is strong, and while work-life balance will always be something I have to manage, I’ve gotten better at setting boundaries. And I’ve learned that makes me better at my job.

What would you say is your favorite part of your job today?

I love that every day is different. No two days look the same. I get to be in creative conversations on both the publishing and label sides — hearing songs from writers, meeting new talent, talking with producers and artists about their vision for a record, even sitting in marketing meetings and throwing out the occasional crazy idea.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

At the heart of it, my favorite thing is sitting down with a writer or artist and asking, What do you want to accomplish? What do you want to say? Helping them clarify that vision and then giving them opportunities to get there — that’s the best part.

And of course, just hearing a great song. Getting to send it to someone with, “You’ve got to hear this one.” Or getting a text from Ernest with something brand new he’s excited about — that never gets old.

I also love mentoring. Guiding young A&R and publishing staff is so rewarding. I’ve had great mentors myself, so it’s important to me to give that back.

Have you had any mentors?

So many. Stephanie Cox has always been incredible — when I was at Harlan Howard Songs, her office was upstairs at Larga Vista Music and she was so generous with her time. Kos Weaver was amazing, always pulling me into meetings and letting me learn by doing.

Photo: Courtesy of Knabe

I’ve also had peers who mentor each other — Beth Laird and I talk all the time about how we’d handle different situations. The Chicks With Hits raised me; they taught me how to pitch songs and be relentless about ones you believe in.

Others who made a big impact: Steve Markland, in the way he nurtures songwriters. Stephanie Wright — I can talk to her about anything. Allison Jones has been a great mentor too.

I’ve been really fortunate to have so many positive influences — men and women — from the very beginning, and I’m grateful for every one of them.

My Music Row Story: mtheory’s Cameo Carlson

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Cameo Carlson

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Cameo Carlson runs the show at mtheory—a manager and artist services company that helps artists not just survive the music industry, but outsmart it.

A digital pioneer, Carlson has a background working in cutting-edge music technology, at a leading record label and in the management of chart-topping artists. Currently, she manages the Grammy-nominated artist Mickey Guyton, and in 2022 she launched Equal Access Development, a program aimed at giving a fair shot to the voices the industry often sidelines: BIPOC, LGBTQ+ and women in country music.

Before mtheory, Carlson led digital strategy at Borman Entertainment. She was also EVP at Universal Motown and Republic Records, where she handled digital marketing and mobile sales. She helped build the early iTunes empire, and kicked off her tech journey at Spinner.com, earning two U.S. patents along the way.

Her work has earned her a shelf of honors including the Music Biz Presidential Award for Outstanding Executive Achievement, NEXT Award for Market Mover, Nashville Business Journal’s Women of Influence, Two Braintrust Pacesetter Awards, Grinnell College Alumni Award and the WMBA Alumni President’s Award.

Carlson also helped found Nashville Music Equality, mentors through Digital Divas, and has served on boards for Music Biz, NIVA, the Academy of Country Music, and is a newly-elected Governor on the Nasvhille Chapter of the Grammy Board of Directors.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

My dad was in the Navy when I was young, so we moved around a lot. Even after he got out, we kept moving—my parents just liked change. We landed in Joplin, Missouri, when I was 13, and that became my home base. I went to high school there, which shaped a big part of my life, even though my parents moved again later.

What were you like then? What were you into?

Because we moved so much, music became the one constant. Even if I didn’t have friends yet, I had my cassettes and later, CDs. When we moved from Los Angeles to Joplin, it was a total shift. I was into the Go-Go’s and Stray Cats, but Joplin was full of hair metal. It surprised me. I was a super nerdy kid—smart, buck teeth, braces—but music grounded me. I’d write down the Casey Kasem Top 40 in a Hello Kitty notebook every weekend. I was obsessed with charts.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

Did you know then that you wanted to work in music?

Not at all. I’m a first-gen college student, and my parents didn’t have any kind of industry connections. I studied political science, which is funny now, because there’s not exactly a job called “political scientist.”

In college, I had a huge CD collection. I DJed parties and worked at the campus radio station. I loved it, but I didn’t think of it as a career. After graduation, I had everything lined up for grad school in D.C.—apartment, internship on the Hill—but when I visited, I totally freaked out. I realized I didn’t want that life. So in 1993, I moved to Seattle. I worked at the mall and went to shows constantly. I saw bands like Soundgarden and Pearl Jam in tiny venues. It was incredible, but eventually I ran out of money and moved back home.

There was a newspaper ad for someone to run the board at an AM country station during Sunday morning church services. I’d done some radio in college, so I applied. They hired me, even though my tapes were ridiculous. I didn’t know anything about country music; I just patched in the service at 7 a.m., slept through it, then ran one live hour using carts. That led to nearly a decade in radio. I moved from the AM station to its light rock FM sister station, where my first interview was Barry Manilow. It wasn’t the music I loved, but it taught me the storytelling side of radio—and gave me a soft spot for yacht rock.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

Eventually, I decided to go to grad school at Mizzou for journalism. I thought maybe I could write about music. While there, I did alternative radio in Columbia and earned my degree. That’s when I finally realized: this could really be a career. And maybe, just maybe, I could get my parents to stop worrying.

What came next after grad school?

I had a real crossroads moment, like something out of a movie. I was the first in my family to go to college, so there was pressure to do something “important.” I had a radio offer in North Carolina, but then this random opportunity came up at a company called Spinner.com in San Francisco. I had no idea what it really was, but I said yes.

This was 1999, and Spinner was doing streaming radio—way ahead of its time. The day I started, AOL acquired us, and we became AOL Music. Three years later, a friend from Missouri radio called and said, “I just took a job I don’t totally understand, but you get digital. Come work at Apple. We’re launching something called iTunes.”

So I joined right after iTunes launched. Steve Jobs was still very involved. My path into the industry was unconventional—especially by Nashville standards—but it was rooted in digital from the start. At Apple, I eventually became head of editorial and programming for the U.S., working on things like Single of the Week and programming the front page of the iTunes Store.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

Tell me about being on the cutting edge of that kind of technology.

At Spinner, I earned two totally useless—but fun—patents for software we built to make online radio behave more like traditional radio. I’d sit with engineers and say things like, “I want to play Pearl Jam twice as often as Bush,” and we’d figure it out. I wasn’t technical, but I could speak both languages—music and tech—which became a theme in my career.

That translator role continued at Apple. I loved bridging the gap between what the code could do and what music fans actually wanted. It was also my first real exposure to country music. I came in as the rock/alternative programmer, but we had a small team, so I took on country too.

At the time, country wasn’t performing well digitally. The audience was slower to adopt, so we spent a lot of time in Nashville. I remember seeing Taylor Swift play in a front room at Big Machine when she was 14 or 15. We were blown away. She became the first country artist we featured as our Single of the Week, which changed everything. For iTunes. For country. And honestly, for me.

What was next?

Eventually, labels started calling. There weren’t many digital people then, so we basically became the recruiting pool for the industry. I always swore I’d never work at a label or move to New York—and then I did both. I joined Republic and Motown, which were one combined group at the time.

We launched a joint venture with Scott Borchetta called Republic South and brought Taylor over. That was a full-circle moment; seeing her go from that first showcase to now being part of the team marketing her music.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

When I started, I literally looked up the word “marketing” in the dictionary. I had no clue what it really meant, but realized I’d been doing it all along. My path—from political science to radio to digital—gave me a unique perspective. I helped shape campaign strategies and pitch Single of the Week placements. We launched the first countdown campaign with Lil Wayne and worked closely with Birdman and Nicki Minaj on download numbers. It was a totally different world.

That’s wild.

It was. I had this unexpected access to Doug Morris, who was running Universal at the time. He was fascinated—and frustrated—by iTunes, and suddenly I was the person he wanted to talk to because I’d worked there. Even though he had Steve Jobs on speed dial! I once took Steve to a concert, but I wasn’t close to him. Still, I became the stand-in for all of Doug’s digital questions.

It was a pivotal moment in the industry—right between the old model and the new one. Amy Winehouse was the Single of the Week during my last week at iTunes, and the first project I worked on at Republic. I took her to Lollapalooza for DSP interviews right before the iPhone launched. iTunes had just become the biggest music retailer, and the labels were not happy. They hated the 99-cent download and $9.99 album model.

I thought I could help fix it from the inside—that I could show labels digital wasn’t the enemy. But wow, I was in for a lesson. It turned out to be the worst job for me personally, but the best education I could’ve gotten. I’m not a label person. It felt like it was about shareholders more than music or artists. But I learned so much. Labels really do shape how the industry works. I came from a world where we didn’t even have the DMCA yet—at Spinner, we were helping shape digital from scratch.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

What was next?

I always knew New York and the label were short-term for me. In my second or third year there, a dear friend—Michael Deputato—insisted I apply for Leadership Nashville. He said they liked having someone from out of town. I’d already bought a house in Nashville after leaving San Francisco, so I applied.

Leadership Nashville changed everything. I fell in love with the city and suddenly had a real network. Back then, around 2010, Nashville was still very insular. Everyone complains now about outsiders, but it really was a bubble.

How did you get in?

One of my classmates mentioned a job opening with Gary Borman, a forward-thinking manager who wanted to bring digital in-house. That wasn’t common yet,most artists didn’t have internal digital teams. He hired me, and I built a team focused on social media and digital strategy. Keith Urban was the first artist we supported. Gary also managed Lady A and Alison Krauss.

It was a chance to apply everything I’d learned from labels, DSPs and strategy to artist development. But it was a small company, and I missed working across more projects. Thankfully, the Leadership Nashville network helped. I wasn’t starting from scratch.

Still, I had to figure out how to fit in. I talked too fast, swore too much—I felt like a loud digital person in a quiet town. So I started a group with Amanda Cates, Dawn Gates and Jennie Smythe called Digital Divas. It began as a vent session, but turned into a mentoring group that helped bring more women into digital roles and pushed teams here to take digital seriously.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

How did mtheory come into the picture?

Gary’s company showed me I wanted to stay in management, but I wanted a broader scope. I reconnected with someone who’d worked for me at Universal, now at mtheory. They were thinking of expanding into Nashville but knew they couldn’t just “move in.” I told them, “I won’t come work for you. But if I can build it and own it, I’m in.” They trusted me.

So in January 2017, I launched mtheory’s Nashville office. The company had started during the rise of 360 deals, when labels were taking a cut of everything but not offering the support to manage it. Managers needed help—they just didn’t always know it.

I wasn’t sure if Nashville would go for it. But two people stepped up early: Marion Kraft brought me in to help with Miranda Lambert’s digital strategy, and Greg Baker had just started managing Trace Adkins. Trace wanted to scale back touring and earn more. When I looked at the digital side, it needed a lot of cleanup, and that’s what kicked things off.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

Tell me about the early days.

Miranda and Trace were our first clients, and I knew my first hire had to be Kaitlyn Moore. I’d hired her to run Keith Urban’s social when I first got to Nashville, and she’s still with me. Then Michael Corcoran joined. He’d been day-to-day for Alison Krauss. So it was me, Kaitlyn and Michael, figuring it out together.

Everything changed when Jason Owen called about working on Golden Hour for Kacey Musgraves. Kacey wanted to play Coachella and tour in Japan—things that weren’t typical for country at the time. We jumped in to help. Kacey is so globally and digitally minded—collaborating with Apple, Spotify in the UK, YouTube in Japan. That campaign was new territory for country, and it really opened doors for us. I didn’t come from the traditional Nashville mold, and I wanted to think bigger. That project proved we could.

Where does that bring you today?

In 2022, we sold part of the company to UMG. All of my partners went with that deal—except me. I stayed. I wasn’t interested in going back to a label. By then, we were working with Trace, Jelly Roll and Tyler Childers. Those three artists are central to our lives and our work, and staying independent let us continue that.

Now, I’m running mtheory independently. We still have offices in New York and LA, one person in New Orleans, but most of our 30 employees are in Nashville. That’s wild for a company that started in New York.

What’s your favorite part of the job now?

There’s a lot, but at the core, I just love helping artists. I really believe I have the best job in the world, helping people make their dreams come true. What could be better?

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

In the last few years, I’ve also had the chance to shape our company culture in a way that reflects who I am. Our Equal Access program has been a huge part of that. I love country music for its storytelling, but for a long time, it’s been the same story. There are other stories that need to be told. Equal Access has given me so much life. It’s not just about artists—we’re focused on infrastructure. There hasn’t been a real path for artists outside the mainstream mold, especially when it comes to managers. This program is about building careers, not just songs.

I’ve worked with Mickey Guyton for years, off and on. When more artists of color started getting signed, she’d call and say, “Do you know any managers? Because no one on their teams looks like them.” That was a big reason we launched Equal Access. We don’t typically manage artists directly—we support managers—but Mickey’s an exception. What started as a temporary favor turned into a real partnership. I’m in China with her, which was definitely not the plan—but it’s been incredible.

Who have been your mentors?

I never had a female boss. I had one lower-level manager who was a woman, but that’s it. That’s part of why I care so much about mentoring now. Back then, I didn’t even know how to ask for it.

Outside of Nashville, Mel Lewinter at Universal taught me a lot about navigating label politics. In Nashville, Mike Dungan was a huge supporter when I was new. He helped me understand country and made me feel welcome. And honestly, my business partners at mtheory—John, JT, and Nat—taught me so much. I felt like I won the business lottery. They trusted that Nashville would need a different model and let me figure it out.

Photo: Courtesy of Carlson

More recently, I joined BrainTrust, a group of female entrepreneurs led by Sherry Deutschmann. None of them are in music, and it’s been game-changing to learn from women outside the industry.

What moment would your younger self think is the absolute coolest?

So many. I’ve done amazing things. I’ve attended Super Bowls, NBA All-Star Games and so many other things all because artists were involved. But honestly, it was the first time I stood on the side of a stage at an outdoor amphitheater.

It was Sandstone in Kansas City, and the band was Live. This was ’96 or ’97, and they were huge. The radio station I worked for was a sponsor, so we got to watch from the side of the stage. The crowd was packed, and when they started their biggest hit, the energy from the audience was unbelievable.

I’ll never forget it. That moment would’ve blown the mind of the kid sitting in the lawn seats as far away as possible, just hoping to go to a show at all.

My Music Row Story: Combustion Music’s Chris Farren

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Chris Farren

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Chris Farren is a tenured, multi-talented music executive, singer-songwriter, producer and founder of Nashville-based Combustion Music. Starting his career in Los Angeles in the ’80s, Farren was a young writer/artist known for his extensive work writing and performing jingles, as well as music for film and TV projects. After a few successful trips eastbound to Music City, he made the move to Nashville and quickly found his bearings as a hit writer-producer.

Farren produced Deana Carter’s breakthrough 1996 album Did I Shave My Legs for This?, earned 9 No. 1 singles as a songwriter and found his true calling discovering and investing in developing talent, signing three-time BMI Songwriter of the Year Jeffrey Steele, four-time Billboard Songwriter of the Year Ashley Gorley, four-time Grammy-winning rock band Kings of Leon and eight-time Christian ASCAP Songwriter of the Year Matthew West early in their careers.

Most recently, Farren has been a pivotal part of launching and producing fast-rising stars Corey Kent, Kolby Cooper, Jameson Rodgers, Payton Smith and Daphne. As a writer himself, Farren has cuts on artists like The Backstreet Boys, Greg Allman, Michael McDonald, Air Supply, Rascal Flatts, Christopher Cross, Trace Adkins, 98 Degrees and Olivia Newton-John, has amassed an impressive lineup of accolades including 11 ASCAP Awards, six Grammy nominations and both an ACM and a CMA Award.

Farren’s legacy lies both in his eye for developing talent, and in the 24+ year story of independent music hub, Combustion Music. To date, he’s led the charge as the company has claimed 108 No. 1 songs from a roster that includes writers like five-time Grammy Award-nominee Matthew West, “Man Made A Bar” co-writer Brett Tyler, “This Heart” co-writer Thomas Archer, perennial hitmaker Gorley and budding songwriters Austin Goodloe, Jessica Farren and Sam Bergeson, alongside a motivated and loyal staff.

Farren’s heart for music has translated into passion projects and philanthropic endeavors, culminating in the creation of his annual Combustion Music Hope Town Music Festival in Elbow Cay, Bahamas. Over the last decade, the festival has raised over $3 million for the local community, bringing some of the world’s best songwriters and artists to donate their time and talents.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I grew up in Washington, D.C., just outside the city, in the Maryland suburbs. I lived there until I was 18.

Was music part of your household growing up?

Not in a formal way. No one in my family was a musician, but they were supportive. I got into music very young. My older brother and sister were quite a bit older than me, so when The Beatles hit, they were all in—and so was I, by default. I was maybe five years old, listening to what they listened to. That was 1968, and music was just everywhere. It was a golden era for pop, and I soaked it all up.

When did you go from fan to participant?

Pretty early. In elementary school I started playing every instrument I could find. I was in the school band on saxophone, in choir, and also playing in little garage bands after school. I just wanted to be around it. In high school, I was in a rock band, a jazz band, and a bluegrass band all at once. I didn’t know what direction I was heading—I just loved it all.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

Did you know then that music was going to be your career?

Yeah, I really did. I was already making money singing and playing in clubs before I graduated. I didn’t want to go to college, I was ready to chase it. But after my dad passed away suddenly, my mom asked me to go, and I’m really glad I did. It ended up being a huge growth period for me, musically and personally.

Where did you go?

East Carolina University. I was shy and kind of nerdy, and music gave me a way to connect. I started playing the local college bars, and that opened a lot of doors. I became kind of a big deal in that town. I was 19, making decent money, and learning how to perform. You can’t be shy on stage. I learned to step into that frontman role even though I was introverted at heart.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

So what came next after college?

I packed up and moved to L.A. in 1982. Drove across the country alone in a new Volvo I’d saved up for. I thought I was ready, but it was a rude awakening.

I’d had some success back home and thought, “If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere.” But L.A. was a different beast. I assumed I’d be able to support myself playing bars and clubs while I wrote songs and chased a record deal, but most of the venues didn’t even pay. Too many people were willing to play for free.

How did you find your footing?

By being unusually bold for me. I cold-called a guy who booked music at a place in Pasadena. I told him, “I’ve been to your club three nights in a row and I’m 10 times better than anyone I’ve seen.” That’s not who I normally am, but something came over me.

He laughed and said, “Okay, Mr. Big Stuff. Come in and audition.” I did, and he hired me on the spot. I played four nights a week there for the next two years. That moment taught me: you don’t get what you don’t ask for.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

What was life like during those years?

I was writing constantly, trying to get demos made and meet people—but it wasn’t easy. There were no home studios back then, so recording meant spending real money in a real studio. And I was writing everything by myself. I didn’t even know co-writing was a thing. I came up idolizing guys like Billy Joel and James Taylor, so I just assumed that was how it was done.

Did anything break through?

Yeah, in a very L.A. kind of way. A neighbor in my apartment complex was a low-level guy at MCA Publishing. Another neighbor was making a low-budget sci-fi movie and needed music. I said, “I’ve got music.” He said, “It has to be cheap,” and I said, “My music is cheap.” [Laughs]

I ended up writing and performing a bunch of songs for that movie. It was called Night of the Comet. It wasn’t a great film, but it became a cult classic. I had the end title and a few other tracks on the soundtrack, which got released by a small label. One of the songs, a duet with Amy Holland, even got some radio play on an alternative station. That was the first time I heard myself on the radio.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

And that led to your first publishing deal?

Yep. That MCA guy saw what was happening and helped me get in the door. It was a small deal, but it paid something. I kept gigging, singing demos, doing jingles and writing for low-budget films. I probably wrote and recorded over 100 songs for B-movies in the ’80s. I wish I’d stuck with that world—it’s huge now—but I was giving music away cheap back then just to get it out there.

Did you ever get close to launching an artist career?

I had a couple of record deals, did a duet with the teenage star Tiffany, and even played The Tonight Show. At one point I was working with the producer of the Eagles and thought we were on our way. But nothing really stuck. Eventually my publisher told me, “You’re a singer-songwriter. That’s not what labels want here right now. You should go to Nashville.”

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

How did you feel about that?

I kind of turned my nose up at it. I didn’t consider myself country. I’d never really listened to country music. But I went anyway, and on my first trip, I wrote 10 songs and six of them got cut. That got my attention. I also met some great people and realized how incredible the songwriters in Nashville were. I couldn’t deny the talent, or the results.

I started making regular trips. Around that time, I met Jeffrey Steele, who was also from L.A. but had country roots. We became great friends and collaborators. I hired him to lead the band for a record I was making, and we ended up writing all the time. He got a record deal, I produced it, and we had some success with his band Boy Howdy—four top 10 singles. That gave me a real foothold in Nashville.

You also started your own publishing company.

Jeffrey couldn’t land a deal, and I believed in him, so I signed him myself. That was the beginning. I was doing okay financially from jingles and other work, so I took the leap. He was the first writer I ever signed.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

When did you officially move to Nashville?

I rented a condo in ’92, bought a house in ’95 when my wife got pregnant, and moved the whole family in 2000. My daughter was starting kindergarten, and it just made sense. Plus, I’d just produced “Strawberry Wine” for Deana Carter, and that opened a lot of doors.

Did you feel like an outsider in the Nashville scene?

A little bit. Most of the successful producers and writers were Nashville-grown, and here was the guy from L.A. with some heat. I think there was curiosity, maybe a little resentment, but it helped me stand out. I wasn’t trying to be different—it’s just that my path had been different.

Between 1995 and 2000, I made about 20 records and had 9 No. 1 hits as a writer. Most of my cuts were on those projects, but I had outside hits too—Colin Raye, Back Strret Boys, Trace Adkins, Diamond Rio and even a pop No. 1. I had young kids and was working nonstop. It was a grind, but I loved it.

And then you expanded the publishing arm?

Right. When it was time for my next deal, Windswept offered me a joint venture. I told them I wanted to do it for real—not just sign one person, but build something. We opened an office, hired a team, and started signing writers.

The first three I signed were Jeffrey Steele, Kings of Leon and Ashley Gorley.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

That’s quite a start.

Not bad, right? [Laughs] That gave me the confidence to keep going. I realized I might have a knack for identifying talent.

How did you adjust to the shift from creator to mentor?

It’s a different muscle. A lot of songwriters don’t make great publishers. I think I did well because I committed to it. I wasn’t just looking for another way to make money—I really cared about the writers. And I knew how they felt, because I’d been through all of it: the highs, the disappointments, the frustrations. I tried to be empathetic, and I made a conscious decision not to compete with them. I didn’t sign myself to my own company. I wanted my writers to know I was in their corner.

What are you most proud of when you look at Combustion?

Longevity. I worked with Jeffrey Steele for 12 years, Ashley Gorley for 16. I’ve been working with Matthew West for 14. Most publishing relationships don’t last that long. Either the writer doesn’t perform, or they blow up and want out of their deal. I’m proud that so many of our relationships have lasted.

I’m proud of the 109 No. 1s. I’m proud that we’re still standing after 25 years. And I’m proud that we’ve done it with class.

Photo: Courtesy of Farren

What part of the job brings you the most joy today?

Getting back to the creative side. For a while, I became “the business guy.” I’d walk into meetings and people would say, “Oh, I thought you were an accountant or a lawyer.” That crushed me. I started in the studio—I’m a producer and songwriter at heart. A few years ago, I got back into production, and it saved me. I needed to remind myself—and others—that I can still make records.

Who have been some of your mentors?

Jonathan Stone at Windswept Pacific was a big one—he believed in me and gave me the green light to start my own company. David Foster was another. I worked with him a lot in L.A., and I admired how he balanced being a phenomenal musician with being a sharp businessman. That left brain/right brain blend really spoke to me.

And my dad—he had a go-for-it attitude. That shaped me too.

Final thought—what makes you proudest today?

I’ve been doing this since I was 12 years old. I produced “Strawberry Wine” in 1995, and I produced Corey Kent’s “This Heart,” [which just hit No. 1] in 2025. That’s 30 years between hits. I’m still here. I’m still doing what I love. That’s something to be proud of.

My Music Row Story: Spotify’s Tim Foisset

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Tim Foisset

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Tim Foisset joined Spotify as the Head of Label Partnerships, Nashville & Canada, in late 2023. His team recently spearheaded impactful new release campaigns for Post Malone, Jelly Roll, Lainey Wilson, Tucker Wetmore, Kelsea Ballerini and more.

Prior to Spotify, he spent 13 years at Warner Music Nashville, most recently as SVP Commercial Partnerships, where he worked with WMN’s partners in streaming, digital retail, physical retail, e-commerce and D2C to drive strategic marketing and revenue. He’s guided new release strategies for artists including Blake Shelton, Kenny Chesney, Dan + Shay, Bailey Zimmerman, Ashley McBryde, Gabby Barrett, Ingrid Andress, Cole Swindell, Cody Johnson and more.

Foisset began his career in NYC and moved to Nashville in 2011 to join Warner Music Nashville.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I grew up in a tiny town called Shushan, New York, right on the New York–Southern Vermont border. I could basically throw a baseball from my backyard into Vermont. It was rural. My parents had 30 acres off a dirt road in the woods. The town had more cows than people. I graduated high school with 42 kids in the same building where I’d gone to kindergarten.

What were you into? What was your childhood like?

We didn’t have cable TV, so my younger brother and I were outside a lot. I spent a lot of time by myself, but I was also one of those kids who fit in with every group. I played football and baseball, did theater, hung out with the snowboarders and the stoners. I was in all the school plays—I was Daddy Warbucks one year—bald cap and everything. I bounced around, in a good way.

Did you like music then?

I did. I was lucky to grow up near an independent radio station called WEQX. That place changed everything for me. My formative years were the late ’80s and early ’90s. WEQX introduced me to cool music—The Replacements, Talking Heads, Jane’s Addiction, Pixies. And being from Vermont, I’m legally obligated to be a huge fan of Phish. I saw my first Phish show in ’92 and have been a fan ever since.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

So when did you know this was the path?

Pretty much right away. In high school, I did some announcing for our girls’ basketball team. We had a state-level team, and I’d do the mic work. And being inspired by WEQX, radio felt like a realistic path. That was always the goal.

When I was visiting colleges, I only cared about the campus radio station and that led me to SUNY Geneseo in western New York. They had a professionally run station called WGSU. I started with overnight shifts on Friday and Saturday nights. While everyone was partying, I was on the air. I still have the tapes. By sophomore year, I was the music director. It wasn’t a freeform station, we programmed it. I was picking the music, talking to record labels. Back then, labels had college promo teams, so I was building relationships with reps at Capitol, Interscope—people probably not much older than me. By senior year, I was running the station. I managed the staff, hired DJs, programmed shows. That’s where I got the leadership bug.

We were six hours from New York City, and every fall we’d go to this festival called CMJ Music Marathon, kind of like New York’s version of SXSW. I’d meet the labels, crash on couches, and see insane shows. I saw Johnny Cash open for Wilco. I saw Sleater-Kinney and Nine Inch Nails in tiny clubs. It was peak post-Nirvana alternative boom. That music’s in my DNA.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

I’m sure the industry cared a lot about college radio then.

Totally. Every station was flipping to alternative formats. We were trying to stay even more cutting-edge, playing artists like Pavement, Built to Spill, Liz Phair, PJ Harvey and Superchunk. I remember getting a new R.E.M. single—“What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?”—on CD in the mail and putting it on the air right away before we even listened to it. It was exciting.

And I built my community there. Some of my best friends today came from those years. I met my partner Michele through the station. She and her roommate used to listen to my show.

What happened after college?

After graduation, I mailed cassette tapes to radio stations, trying to get a job. It didn’t work. Michele and I moved to New York City a few months after graduation, that was always the goal. I got a college promo job at an indie label. I was the one calling college radio stations, just like people used to call me.That kicked off my career in New York.

Tell me about that. What was it like?

We moved to Brooklyn in 1997, back when it was still cool. But it was a struggle. I was making $200 cash under the table for that job. I did it for about eight months, then landed an opportunity at Burly Bear Network—a TV network owned by Lorne Michaels’ Broadway Video. We produced shows for college students—a cooking show called Half Baked and a music news show called Shuffle. We’d send VHS tapes to college TV stations to air. I programmed the music video show, which meant I was still talking to record labels—just about videos this time. I’d put together video playlists and send them out.

This was right at the dawn of the internet, and we had the brilliant, slightly illegal idea to stream those videos on our website.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

So, you invented YouTube.

Basically, yeah. [Laughs] That kicked off my interest in the digital side of the music business.

How long did you do that?

A few years. Then I ended up at Fuse TV, which was also focused on music videos and was a competitor to MTV. I worked on their marketing team for shows like Steven’s Untitled Rock Show and Uranium. I spent the summer of 2004 on the Warped Tour as part of the team managing our on-the-ground activations.

I had some friends who worked at Razor & Tie. They were looking for someone to manage their new partnership with Apple—this brand-new thing called iTunes. I jumped. Right place, right time. Back then, we were mailing CDs to iTunes so they could ingest them. I was making sure our albums were featured in the early version of the iTunes store.

I did that job for about six years. And like every New Yorker, eventually we were ready to leave. After 14 years in the city, we moved to Nashville so I could manage the iTunes account for Warner—and also Word, their Christian division.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

How did you learn all of it in the early days?

I’ve always tried to be on the front end of new things. I cared about digital before most people did. At Razor & Tie, iTunes was such a small part of the business—most of it was still CDs, sold through 1-800 numbers and TV commercials. That gave me room to experiment, build relationships, fail, try again. Nobody cared yet. It was the same with streaming. At first, nobody was paying attention, which gave us time to figure things out.

Music used to come out Monday nights, and I’d stay up to make sure our albums dropped on iTunes at midnight. Sometimes it just didn’t show up—and there was nothing you could do. The systems weren’t built for it yet. That never happens now.

Do you have a favorite memory from that time?

One of our biggest brands at Razor & Tie was Kidz Bop. I was the first to suggest we put our music on Myspace, and I told my boss we should be on YouTube too. This was before Google owned it. I uploaded the Kidz Bop version of Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” to YouTube. I always tell people to go watch it—it’s the greatest Kidz Bop video of all time.

That felt exciting. We knew we were doing something new. Streaming videos was still a novelty.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

Tell me about moving to Nashville.

I knew nothing about Nashville. I found the Warner job through LinkedIn—managing the iTunes account for Warner and Word. I figured out the hiring manager was Jeremy Holley. Between LinkedIn and Facebook, we had 75 mutual contacts, so I messaged every one of them asking if they’d reach out on my behalf. Eventually Jeremy called. His first words were, “I hear I need to meet you.”

He happened to be in New York, so we met up. Once I got the offer, my partner, Michele—who’d never even been to Nashville—and I flew down the next day. We sat in a honky tonk on Broadway that doesn’t exist anymore and said, yeah, we could do this. I didn’t grow up on country music. I moved here in 2011, the same year The Voice started. I didn’t even know who Blake Shelton was.

I had to learn quickly. But I’d already worked on genres I didn’t personally love, like children’s music and heavy metal. To me, the fun part is figuring out how to connect with the people who do love it. Whether it’s a mom buying music for her kid or a metalhead with a crumpled $10 bill, the challenge is the same—how do you reach that person? That same mindset applied to country and Christian music, and it really fueled me.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

Take me through that chapter at Warner.

I was at Warner for 13 years. The first five or so, I was working on things nobody really cared about. Spotify launched about a year after I started, and I became the unofficial Spotify person, trying to get our artists and team to care. I convinced Dan + Shay to release their debut album two weeks early on Spotify. That would never happen now, but we were just trying things. Back then, people only cared about iTunes chart position.

Eventually, streaming became a big enough revenue source that everything shifted. One day, suddenly John Esposito knew my name—and then I was in his office every day. When streaming passed 50% of our revenue, priorities changed. And again, I was lucky to be in the right place. Kristen Williams really fought for me and helped me build a team. By the time I left, I’d built and rebuilt two great teams. Most of them went on to even bigger jobs. I’m really proud of that.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

Then Spotify came calling.

Spotify approached me when Brittany Schaffer left during CRS in 2023. It was a long process. I wasn’t sure at first because I really loved Warner, but this was the one job I would leave for. Warner was supportive, and I joined Spotify in November 2023. After 13 years, I wanted new problems to solve, new people to meet. And it’s been exactly that—new fire drills every day, in a good way. Even a year and a half in, things still come up I’ve never dealt with. I’m using different parts of my brain. I love that.

The team was in transition when I joined, but I really connected with them. We built a culture based on teamwork. That’s the best part—watching them work together to crush an event like [Spotify House], or the Morgan Wallen or Jelly Roll releases. That’s what lights me up. I’ve learned this later in my career, but what I really love is leading people. Helping them succeed, clearing a path, helping them prioritize. And when they win, shouting it from the rooftops so they get the credit they deserve. That’s my favorite part.

Photo: Courtesy of Foisset

What are you most proud of when you look back?

That I was right… multiple times! [Laughs] But seriously, I’m proud of recognizing the moment, showing up and taking the swing.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

Ben Kline once told me: “Report the news.” Meaning—just be honest. If something’s on fire, say it. If something’s going great, say that too.

One thing I always tell my team is: stay steady. Don’t get too high, don’t get too low. We experience this every Friday. One person’s thrilled, the next is furious. You have to stay even. That’s something I’ve really learned with time.

My Music Row Story: Endurance Music Group’s Mark Ahlberg

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Mark Ahlberg. Photo: Ed Rode

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Mark Ahlberg is Endurance’s Co-President and General Manager and oversees all aspects of catalog management and acquisitions. Since 2019, he has managed the acquisition of over $150 million in catalog, developed an artist brand to distribute unreleased masters with major sync placements, and saw the company’s first three singles certified Gold as a label. Ahlberg also founded publisher and label admin company Amplified Administration in 2010, and brought the Amplified clients with him to Endurance at its inception. He was recently promoted to his current role.

MusicRow: Where did you grow up? What was your childhood like?

I grew up in Brainerd, Minnesota—a small town about two and a half hours north of Minneapolis. My dad was a pastor, so we spent a lot of time at church. There were tons of lakes and long winters, so we were outside whenever we could be. I have three sisters, and being the only boy had its pros and cons, but we were always a close family.

Photo: Courtesy of Ahlberg

How did music come into your life?

I started piano lessons in elementary school. My dad, even though he was a pastor, had been a music major in college, so music was always in the house. We listened to a lot of CCM—Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant—but also Chicago and Carole King. I was especially drawn to CCM. That’s really what led me to Nashville.

Tell me that story.

Somewhere along the line, I decided the music business seemed like a fun fit. I liked music and I liked business—why not combine them? In high school, I worked at a Christian bookstore and was the “music guy”—managing inventory and keeping track of new releases. [Laughs] A friend of my sister’s went to Belmont, and when I looked into it, it just clicked. I set my sights on doing A&R at Gotee Records. That was the plan.

What happened when you got here?

Belmont was great. I interned at Gotee and at Showdown Management, which gave me a look at different parts of the industry. Then the Career Center sent out a blind job posting—an independent publisher needed help with admin work. They were upfront that it was heavy on numbers, but I thought, why not?

I applied, and it turned out to be Big Loud Shirt. Their admin team was Big Loud Bucks. They hired me, and that’s what got everything started. I still remember the interview—Marc Driskill was running things, and I walked in nervous, expecting a formal office vibe. But he was wearing a T-shirt and a Tractor Supply hat, and I thought, “Okay, I can do this.”

Tell me about those first few years.

At Belmont, I’d learned about publishing in theory, but this was hands-on. I wasn’t even that into country music, but I became the royalty guy—reading contracts, processing statements, learning by doing.

Big Loud Bucks handled admin for several indie publishers—Elevation Entertainment, Sea Gayle, Big Tractor, Extreme Writers Group—so I met a lot of people early on. I probably had no business being in those rooms at 21 or 22, but I was the one who knew what everyone’s check was going to be, so I was popular. [Laughs] It was the best crash course in publishing. Marc and Kele Currier led the team and taught me so much.

Photo: Courtesy of Ahlberg

Once you got into it, did you realize you would do publishing admin this long?

Pretty quickly, yeah. Publishing just made sense to me. And being around the creative side helped me fall in love with songs and songwriters. Our office had writers coming in for co-writes upstairs and playing songs downstairs—there was constant creative energy.

I remember hearing Chris Stapleton demos and thinking, “Why doesn’t the world know this guy?” That gave me a deep appreciation for songwriting as a career, not just a stepping stone. So once I got in, I knew I didn’t want to leave. It felt like something I could do for a long time.

How long were you at Big Loud?

About two and a half years. When they started making some organizational changes, I—being a naive 24-year-old—thought, “I think I can do this on my own.”

Their joint venture with Extreme Writers Group was ending, and I had a great relationship with Michael Martin and Jason Houser. I asked Michael, “Is it crazy if I start an admin company?” He said, “No, we want to be your first client.” They had a Jason Aldean single, “Crazy Town,” coming out that summer, and that one commission basically floated me through year one while I built up more clients and figured things out.

Photo: Courtesy of Ahlberg

How did you build on that?

A lot came through referrals—part-time or one-off projects, mostly from people I’d worked with at Big Loud or those in their orbit. I pieced it together and slowly built a client base.

At first, I thought I’d only work with independent publishers and songwriters. But I quickly realized that if you’re working with indies, you’re also working with indie artists and labels—and they often need even more admin help. That led to managing mechanical royalties, project coordination, even some production assistant work. I was young and needed the money, so if someone asked, “Can you do this?” I’d say, “Sure”—whether I actually knew how or not. [Laughs] I figured it out as I went and usually got it right. Trial by fire.

Eventually, I had a steady base. I brought on a few distribution clients who worked with indie artists, so I started handling their royalty processing and payments. That’s when I really got a look at the record side—how money flowed and how much was coming in on those assets. I started seeing artists I’d loved years before making more money than ever. They weren’t on the radio, but they were thriving. That changed how I thought about success in the industry.

How did Endurance enter the picture?

Michael and I had always talked about working together again. At the time, he was at ASCAP, and I wasn’t interested in going that route—I liked being independent. Through him, I started doing admin work for Raven Capital Management. They began buying catalogs around 2015 and brought me in to help on some of those deals. That’s how I met Jeremy Tucker, one of Raven’s founders. He had also met Michael, and over time, they talked about expanding Raven’s music side. By late 2018, Michael told them, “I’m interested, but only if Mark is involved.”

So we agreed to meet. We had dinner at Rolf and Daughters with Jeremy and Josh Green, Raven’s other founder. They laid out the vision for what would become Endurance.

At that point, I had a client preparing to sell a catalog with both masters and publishing. I told them, “If I’m in, this has to be our first deal. Here’s the price.” I figured if they weren’t on board, we weren’t aligned. But they immediately said yes. That early confidence gave me peace. I was giving up a bit of independence, but stepping into something I could never build alone. And that’s held true the past six years.

Photo: Courtesy of Ahlberg

Are you involved in the creative side of things now as well?

Kind of. My role is more general manager, but I work closely with the creative team and occasionally toss in an idea. They humor me. [Laughs] I give feedback on new writers or potential catalogs, so I still get to use that creative part of my brain—but most of my time is still in spreadsheets.

What is a day in the life like for you?

It’s a mix. I usually start by catching up with the team, then spend most of the day managing emails, operations, and finances. Right now, I’m kind of our in-house accountant—processing invoices, reviewing deals, talking to lawyers. There’s always something moving, whether it’s an admin client, a writer agreement or a catalog acquisition.

I also try to check in with the creative team, listen to new songs when I can, and support wherever needed. Lately, I’ve been focused on getting institutional knowledge out of my head and into systems the team can use—so the company doesn’t rely on me being the one who remembers how everything works.

Who have been your mentors along the way?

Marc Driskill and Kele Currier were huge early on, as were Craig Wiseman and the Big Loud team. Being around that creative energy was really formative.

Michael Martin has been my biggest advocate. Even at ASCAP, he was constantly sending people my way. He’s also the reason half the town knows me as “Stryker.” At Big Loud, there were three Marks on staff. I was the only one who spelled it with a K, so KK Wiseman started calling me Stryker—like the strikeout symbol in baseball. It stuck.

I’ve learned a lot from Jeremy Tucker—especially on the investment side. Understanding how buyers think, how deals are structured—it’s stretched me in the best way.

Photo: Courtesy of Ahlberg

What is one of the biggest life lessons you’ve learned in your career?

The biggest thing for me is: it’s not about me.

This work means more when it’s focused on others. If you go into a meeting thinking, “What can I get from this?” it rarely leads to something great. But if you show up ready to help and to learn, it changes the outcome. Curiosity and generosity lead to better relationships, better work, and a better life.

What’s a moment you’ve had recently that would impress your younger self?

There are a couple. One is a project we’ve been working on for a few years. One of our first acquisitions under Raven was the catalog of Thousand Foot Krutch. I was a huge fan of theirs in high school, then lost track of them. Years later, they came back into my life as a client. They’d gone independent, so we acquired both their masters and publishing. One of their albums kept performing well, and we had the idea to re-release it with guest features—mixing new artists into the original recordings. Not full re-records, just something fresh. It took two years to put together.

High-school me would’ve lost his mind. We brought in artists like New Medicine, Adelitas Way and Red—but then, unexpectedly, Ronnie Wood of the Rolling Stones said yes. One of our team members had a connection and just took a shot. So yeah, last year we put out a track featuring a Rolling Stone. Pretty surreal.

On a different note—less flashy but just as meaningful—we recently released “Heaven Sweet Home,” written by Jake Rose, Chris Tompkins and Sarah Buxton. Scott Hendricks had asked for something in the vein of “Go Rest High on That Mountain,” and they delivered. Blake Shelton cut it quickly, maybe in 2022 or early 2023, but the release took time. It finally came out recently, and while I don’t know if it’ll go to radio, it’s already connecting. It still hits me every time I hear it.

When you’ve heard as many demos as I have, it’s rare to want to keep playing something after it’s out. But with this one—I do. That’s been a big motivator lately.

My Music Row Story: Wasserman Music’s Paige Maloney

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Paige Maloney

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Nashville-based Wasserman Music VP Paige Maloney represents a diverse roster of popular artists, including Noah Kahan, Bob Weir, Black Pumas, Katie Pruitt, Elizabeth Cook, Emily Nenni and Kelsey Waldon.

In particular, Maloney has played an instrumental role in the remarkable success of her client, Noah Kahan. As part of his booking team since 2016, Maloney’s meticulous execution has helped to propel Kahan’s touring business to unprecedented heights. The culmination of her efforts materialized in the past two years, as he transitioned from selling out clubs and theaters to selling out arenas, amphitheaters, and headlining major festivals. In 2024, Kahan hit many career milestones, including a Grammy nomination and fully sold out tour, all culminating in his first stadium shows for two sensational sold out nights at Fenway Park.

Additionally, Maloney steers the touring trajectory of iconic Grateful Dead founding member Bob Weir, and the electrifying buzz band Black Pumas. In 2024, the Pumas played historic venues like Radio City Music Hall, the Ryman and Wolf Trap, and performed at festivals like Pitchfork, Fairwell, Newport Folk and Ohana. Maloney is renowned for her keen eye for talent and unwavering dedication to nurturing the careers of developing acts including Katie Pruitt, Elizabeth Cook, Emily Nenni and Kelsey Waldon.

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

I’m originally from the Philadelphia area. I grew up in a suburb just outside the city.

What was your childhood like? What were you into?

I played a lot of sports and ran around with friends. I have three siblings, so it always felt like there was a lot going on.

What sports did you play?

I mostly did soccer, softball, and dance. Then in high school, I started playing ultimate Frisbee.

Paige Maloney, Kelsey Waldon and Jonathan Levine pose backstage at the Opry. Photo: Courtesy of Maloney

Were you into music too, or was it just something around you?

I tried to be. I took guitar lessons and played in elementary school band, but I wasn’t very good. So it was more about being into music as a fan. The more I learned, the more obsessed I became—going to shows and just immersing myself in it.

Do you remember your first concert?

The Spice Girls. I was probably around 10—maybe third grade—and it was obviously incredible. I went with my two best friends and one of their moms. It was at what’s now the Wells Fargo Center.

I grew up going to the amphitheater in Camden—back then it was the Tweeter Center. That was a formative place for me. We’d go to Dave Matthews shows every summer. I also saw a lot of shows at the Electric Factory (now Franklin Music Hall), the TLA and the Tower Theater in Philly. Those were my regular spots.

What was your dream back then? Did you ever imagine doing what you’re doing now?

Honestly, no. I never even thought of music as a career path—it was such a passion and hobby that I didn’t realize it could be a job. I always thought I’d work in sports or at a nonprofit. After college, I explored both, but I became a bit disillusioned. What I loved most was the live event aspect, so I started thinking about how to pivot.

I worked in the box office for the Philadelphia Eagles—game days, concerts, monster truck shows, soccer matches. That opened my eyes to the broader entertainment industry.

Was that during college or after?

That started as a college internship that I kept. I was on the game day staff for years—probably six or seven. The realization was gradual, but that job was a turning point.

So how did you go from there to officially getting into the music business?

I graduated in 2011, still during the post-2008 economic recovery, so I was juggling part-time jobs while figuring out what really lit me up. I was drawn to concerts and the live event space.

My first full-time job was at Live Nation in Philly. It was entry-level—handling contracts, ticket counts, that kind of thing—but it gave me a wide view of the industry. That’s when I had the “aha” moment. I realized how many roles existed in music, and I became obsessed. Starting at Live Nation was such a privilege. The people I worked with taught me so much, and many of them are still doing amazing things in the industry. That experience made me curious about artist development, and I became especially interested in what agents do.

At the same time, I was looking to relocate. I’d lived in the same area my whole life and wanted a change. Nashville was calling. Paradigm (now Wasserman) had my favorite roster, and when I interacted with different agencies through Live Nation, everyone at Paradigm stood out—they were personable, approachable, not robotic. Their email signatures even had names. [laughs]

Eventually, I applied for a role supporting Joe Atamian as he transitioned from Monterey to Nashville. I got the job, moved down here in 2015, and I’ve been here ever since.

Paige Maloney, Joe Atamian and Noah Kahan on the set of SNL. Photo: Courtesy of Maloney

Going back a bit—were there any agents early on who made you think, “This could be the path for me”

Honestly, everyone I interacted with here. The culture just felt different and special—especially in Nashville. It’s familial, collaborative, and not cutthroat. It’s very much “rising tides raise all ships.” A lot of that credit goes to Jonathan Levine. He came from Monterey a few years before me to help grow the Nashville office. He’s built something incredible. The people I started with—and still work with—are here for the right reasons. They believe in artistry and artist development, and I’m still inspired by them every day. Working for Joe right off the bat was a huge blessing. He’s brilliant, has incredible taste and leads with integrity. He’s calm and kind, which is rare—and I didn’t realize just how rare until later on.

What kinds of things were you doing as an assistant? Any moments that solidified this as your career path?

It was a gradual build. You start with the basics, and as you get things right, you gain more responsibility. Learning from Joe, JL, Keith Levy—seeing different ways to do this job that I could actually relate to—was huge. Because honestly, I’d often look around and think, “I’m not that, and I’m not that… so who can I be?” I’ve since learned everyone does this job differently, but your values and priorities can be a through-line.

Watching amazing artist development stories unfold around me was also a big part of it. At the time, we were working with artists like Sturgill Simpson and Tyler Childers. It really felt like a golden era in Nashville—especially in the Americana and left-of-center country scenes. We’d compare it to the early ’90s in the Pacific Northwest. It felt like we were living inside a moment—and we knew it, even then.

That same creative wave is still growing. Just look at what’s happened with Zach Bryan and Noah Kahan. I feel so lucky to have had a front-row seat.

How did your path progress from assistant to agent?

I was Joe’s assistant for a few years, then promoted to coordinator. I started working more with Jonathan and other agents. After about three years, I was promoted to agent—right around when COVID hit, which was an interesting time to transition. [laughs] It all felt like a natural progression. I’m lucky—it was a smooth path, and I got to learn from so many incredible agents along the way.

Who was the first artist you signed?

The first was a band called Animal Years—they don’t exist anymore, unfortunately. Kind of an Americana indie group that disbanded during COVID. But it was my first real “this is yours” moment—even though, of course, you’re never truly alone. One thing I love about Wasserman is that we don’t work in territories; it’s roster-based. We often co-rep artists, which allows for collaboration and idea-sharing. It’s more work but totally worth it.

You mentioned him earlier, but tell me about working with Noah Kahan.

We signed Noah in either late 2016. His managers, Drew Simmons and Ryan Langlois from Foundations, had just started working with him and brought him to us. Joe signed him, and I supported the project early on. I’ll never forget seeing his first show at the original Basement. He was 17, and the songwriting already felt so special. He was hilarious, awkward, and totally himself—which hasn’t changed. He’s been an absolute joy to work with. We took the long road, like we always do. 250-cap clubs, then 500, then 1,000. Festival slots, opening tours—no skipped steps. At one point he said, “This is all I ever wanted.” And then he launched.

What’s especially beautiful is that during COVID, he stepped away from trying to fit the Nashville pop mold and wrote the record he truly wanted to make—and that’s the one that connected. It gives me hope. I know I’m being cheesy, but that kind of honesty still works. Fans can tell when an artist is authentic, and Noah returning to himself is what made it all click. The whole team has been there since day one. It’s rare and really special.

Paige Maloney, Justin Osborne (SUSTO), Keith Levy, Marshall Hudson (SUSTO), and Carter King (Futurebirds) at Basement East after a SUSTO show. Photo: Courtesy of Maloney

What’s bringing you joy right now? What are you excited about?

So many things. I feel lucky every day to work with artists I believe in.

Katie Pruitt has a stripped-back duo tour this fall, which we’ve been talking about for a while. She also has a new EP coming—it’s just stunning. Her honesty in songwriting blows me away. Kelsey Waldon’s new record comes out in June, and I think it’s her best yet. It’s raw and personal. She’s been through a lot, and this record reflects that. There’s a young artist from Georgia named Clover County I’m excited about. Her full record drops this fall. Her talent and perspective are so impressive for her age. I’m also working with a songwriter out of LA named Tyler Ballgame. He only has a couple of songs out, but his full record floored me. His sound is totally unique—someone described it as “Roy Orbison sings Kevin Morby,” and I love that.

And on the legacy side, I work with Bobby Weir and worked with Phil Lesh before he passed. I got into music because of the Grateful Dead, so that’s incredibly meaningful. Watching these artists still create and evolve after 60 years is just… it’s the dream.

Who have been your biggest mentors?

Joe Atamian, Keith Levy and Jonathan Levine. This company is full of generous, thoughtful people, but those three have shaped me the most.

What advice would you give someone like you once were—obsessed with live music and trying to figure out how to get in?

I’d say this: It’s a fun and rewarding job, but it’s also incredibly demanding. You’ll work harder than you think you can—but if you do, the rewards are worth it. Also, it’s part hard work and part luck. You can do everything right and still not make it, which is hard to hear—but true. Same goes for artists. Sometimes great work just doesn’t connect, and there’s no clear reason why.

But if you’re passionate about this—go for it. Taking the leap was the best decision I’ve ever made. Surround yourself with good people, and be ready to grind. This job rules.

My Music Row Story: FBMM’s Dan Killian

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Dan Killian

The “My Music Row Story” weekly column features notable members of the Nashville music industry selected by the MusicRow editorial team. These individuals serve in key roles that help advance and promote the success of our industry. This column spotlights the invaluable people that keep the wheels rolling and the music playing.

Dan Killian is an Owner and Business Manager at FBMM. He acts as the financial and operational “quarterback” for his clients’ business activities, advising Grammy and Emmy-award-winning headlining arena acts, spanning virtually every genre of music. Using a holistic approach, Killian caters to every client’s individual needs through budgeting, financial planning, managing their accounting process and overall financial education. This approach allows clients to confidently make decisions that keep their businesses running with the best possible insight and information, ensuring their financial well-being for years to come.

Killian has been recognized as one of the industry’s brightest business managers and has been named to Billboard‘s Top Business Managers list in 2023 and 2024, and MusicRow‘s “Next Big Thing Industry Directory” two years in a row.

In 2017, Killian completed NYU’s certificate of financial planning program and earned his Certified Financial Planner designation. Killian is a regular volunteer with Big Brothers Big Sisters of Middle Tennessee. He also served on the board and as a pro bono financial planner through the Financial Planning Association, an organization that provides resources for underserved communities. Killian has also played a key role in spearheading internal initiatives at FBMM, including creating a health and wellness program, leadership training and mentorship and business development.

Photo: Courtesy of Killian

MusicRow: Where did you grow up?

Originally, my family’s all from Southern California, but they moved to a tiny little town in middle Tennessee called Linden when I was 10. I lived there while growing up, so I like to say I’m a native Tennessean—because I’m about as close as you can get.

What were you like as a kid? What did you like to do?

I loved music. When I was really young—I’m actually deaf in one ear—and when I was little, doctors didn’t know why. They started preparing for the possibility that I’d lose more hearing, so I was learning sign language and all that. I remember the doctor sitting me down when I was five and saying, “Listen to as much music as you can, because we don’t know how long you’ll be able to hear.” That put the fear in me, so that’s what I did. I listened to as much music as I possibly could, and I absolutely fell in love with it. My hearing is virtually the same today as it was then.

What did you listen to?

My parents were pretty strict, so early on I could really only listen to old gospel music—like the Gaither Vocal Band. The Isaacs were a big one too. Basically, I listened to anything I could get my hands on. Once I got to high school, I had a truck and a radio, and in my little town, there were only two stations you could get reception for: one classic rock station and one country station. That’s when I really fell in love with early-to-mid 2000s country. That’s what I was exposed to, and I loved it all.

What was your dream job then?

When I started high school, they sat me down and said, “Okay, there are two tracks: one for college-bound kids and one for people who are going to work.” And I said, “Definitely don’t put me on the college one.” [Laughs]

So I started working over the summers and realized—wait a second—this is hard. I was talking to people in their 30s, 40s, 50s who had been doing manual labor their whole lives, and they were like, “Buddy, you might want to think about college.”

Long story short, I got a scholarship to go to a tiny school halfway between here and Memphis called Bethel University. I played mandolin and guitar and sang in their bluegrass band, which paid my way through school. My dream was to be a touring musician.

After the first year, touring in a van, doing tons of shows, carrying our own gear… it was rough. And I realized again, like with construction, I was talking to people 10, 20, 30 years older who were still doing it, touring 200 days a year. That’s when I thought, maybe I need to rethink this college thing. I wasn’t bad at school, I just didn’t enjoy it. I always saw myself doing something more exciting.

Photo: Courtesy of Killian

So you go to college at Bethel.

Yep. I majored in music business. I still thought I was going to be a touring musician, and this was the backup plan. But this was also right after the 2008 financial crisis, and I remember my first accounting professor telling me, “You’re good at this. You should change your major to accounting.” That was hard to hear. But I listened.

That summer, I got an internship at Universal Music Publishing in Nashville, back when Pat Higdon was running it. He was just a legend. They signed Hunter Hayes while I was there. Andrew Dorff would come into the office and chat with me. It was such a fun environment.

Unlike other jobs I’d had where older people were miserable and warning me away from the industry, everyone there was happy, listening to music, helping songwriters. I remember thinking, “If there’s even a chance I can do this, I’ve got to try.”

I went back to school that fall and told my accounting professor, “I’ve seen the other side. I can’t unsee it.” But I promised him I’d take accounting for every elective I had left. I ended up graduating one class shy of a second major in accounting—so I had a major in music business and a minor in accounting.

How did you discover business management could be an option?

Cyndi Forman at UMPG was the first person who put it on my radar. But even then, she wasn’t hyping it as this exciting career. She just said, “They do numbers.” [Laughs] But I was still thinking about going to law school. I thought that would be more exciting—doing contracts, negotiating deals, representing artists.

I graduated early, in December, and had eight months to fill before law school in the fall. I needed a job. So I thought, “Let me use my accounting skills, work at a CPA firm from January to April, then take the summer off and backpack through Europe.” It was a great plan.

But I had done another internship at CMT and met someone named Kelly Wilson. Her mom worked at FBMM. When I was reaching out to everyone I knew for job leads, Kelly said, “You should reach out to my mom’s company,” so I cold emailed them. Betty Sanders interviewed me and said, “We don’t do temporary jobs, but we have a full-time opening in the mailroom.” I didn’t even fully understand what FBMM did, but the walls were covered in pictures of artists and it was clearly all music-related. I figured, let me just throw caution to the wind and give it a shot. Any job can be seasonal if I quit at the end.

So I started in the mailroom, working under Jamie Cheek and his team. Two weeks in, I was like, “Forget law school. Forget every other plan. Business management is 100% what I want to do.” And I haven’t looked back since.

Photo: Courtesy of Killian

What did you like about it?

It combined everything I loved about music and what I was good at—advocating for artists, helping them understand the behind-the-scenes, the nuts and bolts. My parents, at times, had money and at other times didn’t, but they never did much financial planning. So being able to help artists be wise and thoughtful with their finances felt really meaningful to me. It allowed me to support the art I loved and be a part of making it happen. And that close, interpersonal relationship with artists–that was really important to me. Business management just checked every single box.

You didn’t stay in the mailroom very long at FBMM.

I worked in that mailroom-adjacent role for about four months, then got promoted to work with Duane Clark, who’s now one of my partners. I learned so much from him. It was intimidating, but it was also the first time I was directly working with clients—on the front lines. I realized how messy and rewarding it could be. Every day was different. It was the opposite of what I thought accounting would be.

Some days you’re helping someone who got pulled over and needs their insurance card sent to them on the side of the road. Other days, you’re helping an artist set up a personal budget or find a place to rent after getting their first record deal. Those things matter. If we’re serving our clients well, those things make a huge difference.

What happened next?

I was handling a lot of day-to-day work, and then someone senior left unexpectedly. That opened the door for me to step up. It was a little early, but I was eager. I’ll never forget when Duane pulled me into his office and said, “Okay, batter up.” He made it clear they’d support me, but it was on me to step up and deliver. That opportunity let me start having clients come directly to me. And then it got interesting—people started calling me about business management even though I wasn’t officially one yet.

My clients and their teams—managers, tour managers—were recommending me. I had one band where we had a great meeting, and three days later the manager called and said, “The guys love you. They want to hire you.” I was like, “Absolutely, sounds great.” Then I hung up the phone and thought, “Oh crap… I don’t think I’m actually allowed to say that yet.”

I walked into Duane’s office and told him the truth. He said, “Yeah, you shouldn’t have done that. But since we’re here, let’s dig in. Don’t mess it up.” That was the beginning for me.

Photo: Courtesy of Killian

Then you became the youngest owner in the firm.

So far. FBMM’s always been built on the idea of lifetime business management—supporting artists throughout their whole careers. But obviously, some of our current owners are in their 50s and working with teenage artists. You do the math—it’s not realistic for one person to be there for 40 years. So from the beginning, the firm has had a plan for generational leadership. Becoming an owner wasn’t a surprise, but it’s incredibly humbling. I’ve got big shoes to fill, but I’m proud to be part of that next chapter.

Do you feel like your age has ever been used against you—or, on the flip side, has it ever helped you?

Oh yeah—mainly against me. [Laughs] I’d been working with a client for almost two years. He was out of state, so we’d only talked on the phone. One day, he came to Nashville for a Whiskey Jam set. I needed him to sign something tax-related, so I went to his bus, introduced myself, and he goes, “Oh that’s funny—I have a guy on my business management team named Dan.” I said, “Yeah, that’s me.” And he said, “No no, this Dan is, like, an adult. A professional.” I’d just talked him out of buying a Mercedes a few days before, so I guess he had a more impressive image of me than the reality.

But you learn to roll with it. At the end of the day, your work speaks for itself. As for positives—sometimes it helps that my clients are around my age or younger. There’s less of a generational gap. That said, my partners in their 50s do just fine.

Who have been your mentors?

Definitely Duane at FBMM. It’s hard to overstate how much he’s poured into me. Cyndi Forman at UMPG has always been supportive. Jake Gear, who now runs Lost Highway, was another early influence. I interned at CMT when he was a coordinator. He was cool—tattoos, dating an artist—and I was the nerdy accounting kid. But he took me around, brought me to shows, introduced me to people, and helped me feel comfortable in the industry. That meant a lot.

What’s your favorite part of the job now?

Working with my team. I knew I’d love working with clients and going to shows, but I didn’t expect how rewarding it would be to see the light bulb go off for someone else. Watching the people on my team go above and beyond—it’s really special. Sometimes I get copied on an email and someone beats me to the reply with an answer that’s better than what I would’ve written. And I’m like, “Yes!”