Stephanie Alderman serves as a Partner at Farris, Self & Moore, where she works closely with artists and their teams to support the financial and strategic side of their careers.

A Michigan native, Alderman began her career in music as a classically trained pianist before transitioning to the business side of the industry. She moved to Nashville in 2004 and built her career through a combination of internships, touring and hands-on experience across multiple areas of the business.

Following a 15 year tenure at Rashford Kruse, she joined FSM in 2021 and became a partner in 2023.

MusicRow: Where did you grow up? Tell me a little about your childhood.

I grew up in Lansing, Michigan. I lived with my mom, my younger sister and my grandparents. My mom was an admin assistant at Michigan State, which is how she found out about the community music program there. She came home one day from work and asked, “Hey, do you want to take piano lessons?” I remember learning to read books and read music at the same time.

Music became pretty central: piano, church choir, all of it. But even when I was in high school, I was always watching what was happening around the music. I would go to concerts and stand outside counting production trucks. I’d watch concert DVDs and study the credits, figuring out who did what and who was responsible for which piece of it. Or I’d sit with the liner notes and read through everything. I didn’t know what any of it could become.

Did you go to school for music?

I did. And, for a long time, I was completely single-minded about it. I was going to be a concert pianist. That was the plan, full stop. It was such a huge part of my identity that I don’t think I could have imagined anything else.

I went to Interlochen Arts Academy, a performing arts boarding school in northern Michigan. Being surrounded by people who were equally serious about music, theater, dance and visual art made me start seeing the whole ecosystem differently. Not just the performance, but everything that holds it together.

My senior year there, I was practicing six to eight hours a day. I had this tendency to put my head down and push through anything, and I ended up developing carpal tunnel in my right wrist right before audition season. The doctor told me if I didn’t rest it, I could do more damage. I ended up cancelling several auditions because I had enough clarity to recognize that nobody auditions for a competitive conservatory program planning to take an immediate break after.

That was the first time in my life I had ever considered that my plan might not unfold the way I thought. I’d always just been head down, getting it done. There was a bit of panic. But looking back, there was also a little relief. I don’t think I was fully aware of the amount of pressure I’d put on myself.

I still went to Michigan State for classical piano performance, because I was stubborn and wasn’t ready to admit I didn’t have it figured out. I went back to study with my professor, Deborah Moriarty, the chair of the piano department there. I learned an enormous amount from her. She knew long before I was willing to say it out loud that I would end up somewhere other than the stage. She was always very supportive in a way that went beyond just the music.

But I was also starting to feel the other thing: the stage fright and anxiety that had always been there, but I’d been suppressing. It came to a head right before my senior recital. I remember standing backstage with this very clear thought: I don’t need a degree. I could just walk out right now.

I obviously didn’t. Deborah intercepted that train of thought. I walked out, played the recital, and lived.

But in that moment, I knew. I love music, but maybe this is not for me. It was a gradual peeling of the onion to come to the idea that there’s a whole other world out there where I can still be really involved in music, even though it would not be onstage.

So what came next?

At Michigan State, I’d started taking some business classes alongside the performance degree. I interned with the jazz department, or more accurately, they humored me. I was doing admin and behind-the-scenes work, and I was probably not as useful to them as they were to me. But I soaked up everything I could. I was also reading every music industry book I could get my hands on. The curiosity about how the business worked had been there since the production trucks.

At that point, I thought my options were New York, LA, or Nashville. I had never even been to Nashville and didn’t know anyone in town. But I called a bunch of places and kept hearing the same thing: you have to be a student to intern. So I thought, fine. I’ll be a student.

And that’s what brought you to Belmont?

Yes, though I initially signed up for Belmont’s music business program with no real intention of finishing a degree. I just knew I needed to get to Nashville and start building some experience and connections. What I didn’t expect was that I got close enough to finishing that I went ahead and completed it.

But the thing that really changed everything was getting involved with Service Corps, a student-led volunteer organization. We went to the ACM Awards in Las Vegas to work the radio remotes. I was assigned to a new artist who had just released his first single. His manager was there too, and at the end of the day the manager said pretty offhandedly, “Oh, you live in Nashville? You should call me when you get back.”

I don’t think he really meant it. I followed up anyway.

What did that lead to?

I interned for that manager for a bit before the artist eventually let him go. But I stayed on to do random things, and through that connection I started doing some work with the artist’s business manager at the time, Tom Rashford, who would later become my boss. I was also interning for Mary Hilliard Harrington, who had just started her own company and was the artist’s publicist at the time.

Mary opened doors for me, including introducing me to an opportunity to go on the road as a production assistant. I had zero road experience. I was the only female in the camp, living on a bus with 11 guys. I don’t have brothers, so that was a significant adjustment. Looking back, that stretch of time was formative in ways I never anticipated.

About a year into that first tour, my husband joined the camp. He’s had a long career on the road himself. When my role at FSM started demanding more, he retired from touring so he could be home with our three boys. None of this works without him, and I’m so thankful for his support.

How did you end up in business management?

It’s a little embarrassing in retrospect.

I would do a road gig, come back to Nashville, and find myself drifting back into Tom’s office to help with things. Then I’d do another road gig. Then come back. Over and over. I kept telling myself business management wasn’t really an industry job, that it was too peripheral, too far from the thick of it. I had moved to Nashville to be an artist manager. I had this whole plan in my head, and business management wasn’t my plan.

I actually said to Tom at some point: “I’ll help with whatever you need, but I don’t want my own clients. I’m not going to be a business manager.”

What I didn’t understand yet was that business management is a role where you truly see the full picture. You’re not just managing money. You’re involved in decisions that shape the long-term trajectory of someone’s career and their life. It’s also where everything I’d learned on the road, in production, in publicity—all of it—came together.

The thing that finally grounded me was when I had my oldest son. I knew once we had kids, my husband and I couldn’t both stay on the road. I moved into the office more permanently, still “just helping.”

Then, a few weeks into maternity leave, I went to an office birthday lunch and realized the co-worker covering for me was dealing with some difficult personal stuff and was also out. I came back early. Baby in tow. And in a strange way, throwing myself back into work was exactly what I needed, because I was struggling more than I’d admitted. My husband was on the road, and I was going through postpartum depression. Work gave me something to hold onto. Once I had my own clients, there was a bit of a shift. I realized I actually did really love it. Never say never, I guess.

The partners at my prior firm were incredibly forward-thinking about all of it. I had a colleague who was going through almost the exact same season of life at the same time. We had our kids months apart and essentially propped each other up for years. I don’t know how we managed, other than it truly takes a village. But I’m grateful that my prior firm never made me feel like I had to choose between my family and my career. They had a lot of grace for me to keep coming back, and they gave me a lot of room to learn.

Where did you go from there?

I stayed at my prior firm for about 15 years. It was a small office, and through various circumstances over the years, I ended up taking on more and more responsibility, including eventually running day-to-day for the major client I’d first met at that ACM radio remote, who is still a client to this day.

Then COVID hit, and like everyone in this industry, we just dealt with it. In the middle of it, you don’t have the luxury of falling apart. But when things started coming back to normal, the burnout landed all at once. I realized I’d hit a ceiling. Not because anything was wrong, but because I’d stopped growing. I loved what we’d built, but I wasn’t fulfilled.

The hardest part of even entertaining the idea of leaving was the thought of walking away from the relationships—with clients, with colleagues, with people who had been a part of my professional life. The idea of disrupting them was genuinely agonizing.

How did FSM come into the picture? 

My brother-in-law, who is also in the industry, knew Stephanie Mundy Self. He mentioned that FSM had grown to the point where they needed to expand strategically to keep serving clients the right way.

I’d actually crossed paths with Stephanie years earlier while working for one of her clients when she was at another firm. When she, Kella [Farris] and Catherine [Moore] started FSM, my former colleague and I were quietly rooting for them from the sidelines—checking their website, watching them grow. I’m sure they had no idea. So when my brother-in-law mentioned they were looking to expand, I was curious enough to say yes to breakfast.

I told myself it was just a conversation.

Stephanie is very persuasive! But more than that, the timing was right and everything aligned. Had this come up a year earlier, I probably would have said no. I’d turned away approaches before, and some of those felt like people wanted access to clients more than they wanted me. This felt different. FSM was operating with the same values and culture I believe in. We all have different strengths and personalities, but the same foundation.

I kept thinking about how this was the second time I’d walked away from my plan. I didn’t really know what was going to happen. I just knew it would all work out. My husband will tell you he never expected me to make the move. It probably looked impulsive from the outside, but it wasn’t. I just trusted it.

What has been your favorite part about your time at Farris, Self & Moore?

Besides working with our clients, I would say our team. The people at FSM make me want to be better and do better every single day. Watching them grow, investing in them, seeing them take ownership. That’s what drives me now more than almost anything else.

The moments I love most are when we can go to a client’s show together, when we step out from behind the desk and see what we’re actually a part of. That reminder of what all the work is for.

Who are your mentors?

So many people, and most of them wouldn’t even think of themselves that way.

Deborah Moriarty, my piano professor at Michigan State, was foundational. She saw something in me before I could see it myself and supported me in a way that went well beyond teaching piano. Mary Hilliard Harrington opened doors early on and took a chance on someone who barely knew what she was doing. Tom Rashford shaped my understanding of what it means to truly serve a client and how character defines a career.

And my partners, Stephanie, Kella and Catherine, who have shown me what it looks like to be a business owner, a leader, a mom, and a friend all at the same time, without pretending any of it is easy.

The truth is, I’ve learned from everyone I’ve worked with. I’ve had a lot of help along the way.

What is the best advice you’ve ever gotten?

Your reputation is all you have, so use it wisely. Every decision either builds it or spends it.

What are you most proud of in your career?

Making the move to FSM. It was simultaneously one of the hardest and best decisions I’ve made. The relationships I was most afraid of losing, I didn’t lose them. It turned out to be the thing I didn’t need to worry about. This business doesn’t usually end up how you plan it—my path certainly didn’t. And I wouldn’t change a thing.