Lee Soo Man, the man often called the "King of K-pop," has spent more than three decades shaping the global phenomenon that is Korean pop music. On November 1, 2025, Lee sat down to reflect on his storied career, the evolution of K-pop, and where he sees the industry heading next. Just days earlier, on October 25, he was inducted into the Asian Hall of Fame alongside basketball legend Yao Ming, Olympic figure skater Michelle Kwan, and rock icon Yoshiki—a recognition that cements his place among Asia’s cultural giants.
It’s a title Lee accepted only after some hesitation. According to the Associated Press, he initially resisted the "King of K-pop" moniker, thinking it sounded too flashy, maybe even a bit like a neon sign in Seoul’s nightlife district. "I asked them, ‘Couldn’t it be Father of K-pop?’" Lee recalled, referencing the title of an Amazon Prime documentary about his life. But the producers insisted that the bolder phrase would resonate better with American audiences. "I had to follow their decision," Lee admitted, a small but telling example of the flexibility that’s marked his approach to breaking into the Western market.
Lee’s journey began in earnest with the founding of SM Entertainment in 1995. From the start, he had a grand vision: to turn K-pop into a global force. He’s widely credited as the architect of the industry’s now-famous training system, which recruits performers as young as elementary school age and puts them through years of rigorous preparation. This system, while groundbreaking, hasn’t been without controversy—some artists have challenged their contracts as unfair, fueling ongoing debates about the pressures and ethics of the K-pop world.
Despite such challenges, Lee’s influence on the genre is undeniable. He pioneered not just the music but the entire ecosystem surrounding it, including elaborate fictional universes—so-called "worldviews"—for groups like EXO and aespa. These storylines, inspired in part by Lee’s time studying in the United States, give fans a reason to follow their favorite groups through multiple comebacks, albums, and even virtual avatars. "But we only have three or four minutes," Lee explained to the Associated Press, referencing the typical length of a pop song. "How do we express dramatic, cinematic elements in such a short time?" His answer was to weave ongoing narratives across music videos and releases, a strategy reminiscent of the Marvel cinematic universe but tailored for pop groups.
Lee’s technical background—he studied computer engineering in the U.S. for his master’s degree—has always informed his approach. He’s known for embracing cutting-edge production technologies, and he’s even rewatched "The Matrix" to draw inspiration for visualization techniques. This blend of creativity and technical savvy helped him push K-pop beyond Korea’s borders, even when the odds seemed stacked against him.
One of Lee’s boldest moves came in 2009, when he invested nearly $5 million in BoA’s American debut with the song "Eat You Up." It was an ambitious attempt to break into the U.S. market, with the song written and produced by Western producers. But the timing was off. "When I asked the songwriter(s) to revise ‘Eat You Up,’ they refused," Lee recalled. "If we had changed it, I believe it would have achieved much better results." After two years, BoA—already a superstar in Korea and Japan—returned home, and Lee was left with regrets but also valuable lessons.
That setback taught Lee the importance of sourcing global talent while maintaining creative control. He remembered tracking down the songwriter of what would become "Dreams Come True" for the girl group S.E.S., traveling all the way to Finland to secure the rights. "I could’ve bought the license to the song in South Korea, Hong Kong, or Sweden. But I wanted to play it safe, so I found the Finnish address, went to meet the songwriter directly, wrote up a contract, and brought it back." At the time, top Western songwriters prioritized Japan, but Lee’s efforts helped build a system where music from Europe, Asia, and America could converge, giving K-pop its signature international flavor.
Lee’s vision for the future is just as ambitious. After a high-profile and sometimes contentious departure from SM Entertainment—a saga that included a public feud with his nephew-in-law and a bidding war over his shares—he’s kept busy with new projects. He recently debuted the band A2O MAY in both China and the U.S., and he’s investing in a boutique Chinese firm’s high-tech production technologies. Lee sees South Korea as a future creative hub, a place where international talent can come to learn the art of production. "Korea should become the country of producers," he said. With the Asia-Pacific region home to more than half the world’s population, Lee believes it’s only a matter of time before the region becomes the center of global entertainment.
Navigating the Chinese market is no small feat, especially as Beijing has tightened restrictions on youth culture and "effeminate" male celebrities. But Lee remains undeterred. When asked about potential political risks, he shrugged them off: "Political risk? I don’t really know much about that." His goal, he says, is to elevate South Korea’s cultural influence while also meeting China’s need to expand its own soft power. "Culturally, does China need what we do? I believe they do."
Not all of Lee’s reflections are celebratory. The documentary about his career also delves into the darker aspects of K-pop, including the suicides of SM Entertainment artists. Lee traces these tragedies in part to the anonymous, often malicious online comments that artists endure. He sees this as a global problem, exacerbated by the difficulty of holding anonymous users accountable, especially when servers are located outside South Korea’s jurisdiction. Lee has called for international cooperation on user verification and mediation systems, aiming to give victims a way to identify attackers without facing expensive legal battles.
Still, Lee resists the tendency to focus solely on K-pop’s problems. "Should we always weigh the dark side equally with the bright side, the future?" he asked. "Media should consider whether K-pop represents more future or more past that holds us back. Rather than just discussing the dark side and dragging us down by clinging to the past, shouldn’t we talk more about the future?"
After more than thirty years at the forefront of Korean pop, Lee’s definition of the genre remains as forward-looking as ever: "K-pop is a new language of communication that transcends barriers. These languages move around naturally—what you can’t stop is culture." For Lee Soo Man, the past is prologue, and the story of K-pop is still being written.
