SEOUL, South Korea — Lee Soo Man, the man often called the “King of K-pop,” once found the title too extravagant. He preferred something more modest, like “Father of K-pop.” But when producers of Amazon Prime’s new documentary about his life insisted the bolder title would resonate with American viewers, he agreed.

That compromise reflects the 73-year-old founder’s pragmatic approach to taking South Korean pop music to the global stage. For more than three decades, Lee has shaped the K-pop industry and built SM Entertainment into one of its most influential institutions. This week, he is being inducted into the Asian Hall of Fame, joining basketball legend Yao Ming, Olympic skater Michelle Kwan, and rock icon Yoshiki.

Architect of a Global Sound

Lee is credited with designing K-pop’s blueprint, from its polished visuals to its intense artist training system. His label scouted and trained talents from a young age, developing performers who would later dominate global charts. Yet, his methods have also drawn controversy, as some artists challenged their contracts and questioned the industry’s fairness.

The recognition comes as Lee steps back into the public eye following his high-profile exit from SM Entertainment in 2023. The corporate dispute, which involved a management feud and a bidding war for his shares, ended his decades-long reign at the company he built.

Now, Lee is pursuing new ventures, including a multinational pop group called A2O MAY, launched in China and the United States. He has also invested in high-tech music production innovations through a boutique Chinese firm.

A Vision Fueled by Technology

A former computer engineering student in the United States, Lee’s background in technology deeply influenced his approach to music production. He incorporated advanced visualization, digital storytelling, and virtual avatars into K-pop long before they became industry trends.

He said he has recently rewatched The Matrix to study its production techniques, a reminder of how deeply technology and creativity intertwine in his philosophy.

For Lee, his Hall of Fame honor signifies that “K-pop has become a genre the mainstream now recognizes,” a validation earned after years of trial, error, and persistence.

Lessons from Early Setbacks

Lee’s first major attempt to break into the U.S. market came in 2009 with BoA’s single “Eat You Up.” He invested around $5 million in the project, making it one of the earliest collaborations between Korean talent and Western producers.

However, with few Asian stars visible in American pop culture at the time, the market was unprepared. “If we had revised the song, it could have done better,” Lee reflected, describing it as one of his lasting regrets.

That experience taught him the importance of sourcing global talent while maintaining Korean creative direction. It also inspired him to personally scout songs worldwide. He once flew to Finland to buy the rights to what would become S.E.S.’s “Dreams Come True,” a move that helped define K-pop’s global fusion sound.

Building the K-pop Universe

Lee’s innovation extended beyond music. He pioneered the idea of fictional “worldviews” for groups like EXO and aespa, creating interconnected storylines across albums and videos. The concept, inspired by MTV’s evolution of music into a visual medium, became a cornerstone of modern K-pop.

Without established screenwriters to help, Lee crafted many of these storylines himself. The result was a new model of fan engagement, one that encouraged global audiences to follow every “chapter” of a group’s journey.

A Regional Future for a Global Industry

Despite K-pop’s worldwide reach, Lee believes Asia remains its most promising frontier. He envisions South Korea as a creative hub for global producers. “Korea should become the country of producers,” he said, pointing to the region’s vast population and cultural influence.

His latest project, A2O MAY, embodies that idea. Operating in both China and the U.S., the group tests his theory of cross-border collaboration. Asked about China’s tightening control over entertainment, Lee was dismissive of political concerns. “Political risk? I don’t really know much about that,” he said.

He believes South Korea’s production expertise complements China’s cultural ambitions. “Culturally, does China need what we do? I believe they do.”

Confronting K-pop’s Darker Side

Lee has also spoken about the mental health struggles faced by K-pop artists, including tragic suicides among SM Entertainment stars. He blames unregulated online harassment and calls for international standards to hold anonymous abusers accountable.

He advocates for global systems that allow victims to identify perpetrators without lengthy and costly legal battles. Still, he urges the media to focus on K-pop’s potential rather than its controversies.

“Should we always weigh the dark side equally with the bright side?” he asked. “Rather than being dragged down by the past, shouldn’t we talk more about the future?”

The Language of Culture

After more than three decades in the industry, Lee’s definition of K-pop remains simple but profound.

“K-pop is a new language of communication that transcends barriers,” he said. “You can’t stop culture. It moves naturally, like language.”