There’s No Industry Metric for Showing Up

Ahead of a panel at this week's BIGSOUND conference, Viceroyalty and MNRK director Zac Abroms pays tribute to late artist manager, Doron Losky.

In March 2026, I lost a friend. Doron Losky was an artist manager and formerly a producer on FBi Radio, a marketing assistant at Music NSW and A&R scout at Future Classic. He was also an unassuming pillar of the community. Not any particular community, Doron was non-specific in his generosity of spirit. He enthusiastically gave his time, attention and talents wherever and to whomever he felt he could make a difference. The community he built was of his own making, and it spanned borders, cultures, genres, generations and all walks of life.

Despite our punctuality, when my wife Hazel and I arrived at Sydney’s Chevra Kadisha for Doron’s memorial service, there were precious few seats left in the building. By the time the service commenced, many mourners had taken up standing positions in the foyer, and the congregation spilled out onto the steps of the hall. I joked to myself that Doron would have been pleased with the sold-out crowd. Processing complex emotions has never been my strong suit.

As I cast my gaze around the venue, I took in the faces of countless strangers whose lives Doron had touched. His family, school friends, neighbours, cancer survivors he befriended throughout his journey, members of the many charities Doron selflessly dedicated himself to during his all-too-brief life.

After the service, as the throngs of people spilled out onto Oxford Street, I began to pick out some familiar faces in the crowd. An artist, a label owner, a publicist, a publishing A&R, representatives from peak bodies and a handful of artist managers. A veritable cross-section of the Australian music industry. Amid the profound sadness of the occasion, we began to exchange words of affection and admiration for the person we’d come to farewell. In that moment, it dawned on me that although the cornerstone of this group was sorely absent, an otherwise improbable community had been formed in his wake.

A few months later, I received a call from the programming team at BIGSOUND. “How would you like to moderate a session that looks at what it means to build and sustain community in music, in memory of Doron?” I don’t think I’ve responded in the affirmative to anything so fast in my life.

On Thursday, 3 September, “... For The Greater Good” will close this year’s conference. The session will shine a light on local heroes making a positive impact in the corners of the Australian music industry where it’s needed most. In the spirit of that notion, I want to take a moment for the person this session memorialises, and to hear from some of the people in Doron's community about what it means to “show up”. Specifically, some of the familiar faces I encountered on the steps of a crowded memorial service in Woollahra one morning in March.

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“Doron started managing me at the earliest stage of my career. We met, went into lockdown and then spent that time building the foundations of what would become a treasured friendship. One of the things that stood out to me the most was his passion for people and community. He was incredibly integrous and never considered success at the expense of others or his own values. He was a meek and kind person and an expert listener. He not only believed in people but knew how to show up for them. And he always did without asking for anything in return. Beyond working together, Doron became one of my best friends. We dreamed together, we debated our ideas and we always supported one another, and most of all, we laughed a lot.” Ashli (Artist)

“Doron was the best. He was always such an advocate for our scene, pushing all of us to apply for that grant, attend that showcase, nominate our friends or artists wherever possible, and most importantly, just show up. Our friendship grew through working together on dameeeela’s project. He went far beyond what you’d expect of a single artist manager, genuinely caring about our whole small, but growing, NLV Records collective. We even shot a music video for another label act at his brother’s mechanic at one point, which he organised with me mid treatment in 2023. Even while dealing with his own challenges, he never stopped making time for others. The last time I saw him was at the MusicNSW event around the ARIAs. He came on his own and ended up sitting with my parents, just quietly showing his support in that way he always did. He was generous, thoughtful and deeply present. I’ll really miss him.” Nina Agzarian (Co-founder & Director @ NLV Records)

“I had the privilege of working with Doron through signing Ashli, and over the course of our working relationship, we became friends, as so often happens in our beautiful industry. It’s hard to express just how good a person Doron was. He was warm, funny, always quick to laugh and smile, and perhaps the most considerate person I’ve ever encountered. It was a highlight of my day to speak with Doron and Ashli, who were so alike in their kind-heartedness, both wanting to know how I was going before we jumped into talking about work. As much of a gift as Doron’s friendship was to me, it was also such a blessing to witness the bond between Ashli and Doron, who were peas in a pod in so many ways. Both highly moral and conscientious and incredibly deep and thoughtful. It was beautiful to see these two young people stepping out into the world together and creating opportunities for themselves. He was a fantastic manager, and I saw his fierce commitment to Ashli on display many times. I was struck by his dedication even after he was supposed to have taken a step back to focus on his health. Time and again, we would discover that he had secured grant funding for her behind the scenes, quietly going about his business, finding ways to extend himself for the people he cared about. Humble and hardworking, far too modest to shout about his many accomplishments, but always one to celebrate everyone else’s with a capacity for kindness and generosity that was boundless. I really miss him.” Hazel Gordon (Senior A&R Manager @ Concord Music Publishing ANZ)

“After knowing each other socially for a few years, I moved into a new house in 2022, and Doron turned out to be my neighbour. I was quite a bit older than him, but I always saw a lot of my younger self in Doron. We'd regularly catch up at the café down the road, which he loved, even though they'd often get his very specific vegan order wrong. We'd debrief on basketball (he would be so mad at LeBron for leaving his beloved Lakers), debate new music (he had the best taste!), gossip about the industry and discuss the overall confusing state of the world. His optimism was infectious, even after his diagnosis. He was the greatest person and friend. I'll really miss our hangs dearly.” Alexander Franco (Artist Manager, Publisher & Director @ Liquorice Music)

“I’ve thought a lot about the importance we place on ‘showing up’, and how much Doron showed up for so many. So many individuals, in different spaces and communities. He was so present and deeply connected. The last time I saw Doron in person, he was showing up again, this time for NLV in conversation at Club 77. I could see and feel that it was a really tough time for him that night. But he was still there, and still smiling, still showing up. I really miss Doron. I often revisit the many kind DMs from him. Especially in recent years, I guess that was his way of still showing up, despite all that he was experiencing. I miss seeing him in different spaces, with his special light on, showing up. Equally, it really warms my heart to see how others have shown up for him, too.” Jane Slingo (Director, Asia Pacific @ VibeLab / Director @ Electronic Music Conference)

“Doron was what is known in Yiddish as a mensch — a person of integrity, highly principled and of deep moral character. He was a purist, a rarity in an industry often driven by hustle and brute force. Doron was never performative and did not need to be the loudest person in the room. The art spoke for itself, especially when it came from an artist he believed in. But he also knew that the team around it was essential — and he made you feel that way. Important, valued and seen. Even when life was busy, there was rarely a week that went by without a message from Doron, because he prioritised connection: “Mon, how are you feeling?”, “Mon, happy birthday!!”, “Thank you, Mon.” These small gestures were Doron. They were his way of reminding you that people mattered, that community was central, that the work was always, ultimately, about the people making it. He left us too soon, and though he leaves behind a legacy of accomplishments, the greatest gift he imparted to those lucky enough to be touched by his friendship is something much harder to measure: a way of moving through the world. A belief that you can build something meaningful without becoming hardened by the machinery around it; that you can be ambitious without losing your gentleness; that you can care deeply without needing to make a spectacle of it. In Judaism, when a person passes away, there is a saying: “May his memory be a blessing.” Those of us in his orbit are left with both grief and gratitude — for the way he championed his people with devotion, for the communities he loved and helped shape, and for the mark he left on all of us who were lucky enough to know him. In his honour, may we work and live with integrity, lead with generosity, and leave more room for kindness. Doron reminds us that, at the end of the day, it is often the small things that matter most. How are you feeling? Happy birthday. Thank you. May his memory be a blessing.” Monique Rothstein (Founder & Director @ Positive Feedback)

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The music industry is adept at measuring success, be it streams, followers, ticket sales, chart positions or awards. We’re considerably worse at measuring the less tangible contributions made by individuals like Doron. There’s no industry metric for the connections made without expectation of return, the job or grant someone encouraged you to apply for, the show they attended simply because they knew how much it meant to you, or the kind message they sent to lend support when you needed it most. And yet, those small and often selfless acts are an essential part of the fabric of a healthy music community.