It was infectious and Epik High went on to release seven albums during the next seven years-an astounding burst of productivity. Then there's an explosion of lyrics, beats and a dense overlay of sounds.
It begins with a swirl of harps and what sounds like a 1950s-era ballroom dance class: "We're now going to progress to some steps which are a bit more difficult," an instructor says in English. They called themselves Epik High and released their first album- Map of the Human Soul-in 2003. Lee formed a band with two other musicians. Critics saw no room for a guy who produced his own lyrically complex music, particularly when it dealt with issues like discrimination and class warfare. They belted out sugary sweet songs-dubbed K-Pop-and strived to sound upbeat and happy. The music scene was dominated by attractive young people assembled into groups by record labels. In Korea at the time, hip-hop was not a popular genre. They were thinking doctor or lawyer, not rapper.
In 2001, when Lee told his parents that he was going to be a hip-hop musician, they were horrified. When the program aired two months later in Korea, this was the opening moment. He rubbed his face and wondered if maybe he was going crazy. "It's not here anymore," Lee said, staring at the spot where he knew The Thinker had been. They were here to document for Korean national TV whether or not Lee was a liar. The cameraman for the television crew closed in on Lee as he looked at the empty lawn. The reason? Hundreds of thousands of Koreans refused to believe that Lee, '02, MA '02, graduated from Stanford. Now his career was in tatters, he'd parted ways with his record label, and his family was receiving death threats. Until recently, he had been one of Korea's biggest celebrities.
To Koreans, he was known as Tablo, a chart-topping rapper who was also married to one of the country's most prominent movie stars. In Seoul, it was hard for Lee to walk down the street without being mobbed. Students on bikes zipped past, paying no attention to the cameras or the skinny, dark-haired 30-year-old they were filming. The Korean television crew following him noted that there was nothing there, just a well-mowed lawn.
On August 19, 2010, Dan Lee stood on the steps of Meyer Library and pointed to a nearby patch of grass.