What Solo Projects Has SHINee Leader Pursued Outside The Group?

Late-night scribbles and rainy-city neon blended into the first sparks of 'HER, DARK LEADER'. I was reading a stack of political essays and then flipped to a battered anthology of myths, and both voices started arguing with each other in my head: the dry cadence of realpolitik versus the flamboyant, tragic arcs of queens and monsters. That clash — ordinary systems of power meeting mythic psychology — became the engine for the plot. I wanted a story where a woman's ascent to absolute control felt both eerily modern (think surveillance, PR machines, populist speeches) and ancient, as if Zeus-level bargains and curses still framed every decision. The protagonist's moral grayness came from watching how small compromises spiral in real life: an offhanded lie, one broken promise, a policy made “for the greater good” that mutates into something monstrous. Aesthetics and tone drove a lot of narrative choices. Musically, I kept picturing synth-laden choral pieces and shoegaze that could score a coup; visually I borrowed from high-contrast noir, cathedral interiors, and ruined statues with vines — so the plot needed scenes that let those images breathe: a coronation done under flickering power, a secret meeting in a cathedral basement, a demolished statue reclaimed by protesters. I leaned on classic tragic templates — echoes of 'Macbeth' for ambition and fate, the moral ambiguity of 'Blade Runner' for who counts as human and who is expendable, and the psychological intensity of 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' where inner demons externalize as literal threats. But I also threaded in softer influences: folktales where bargains always have a hidden cost, and modern memoirs about leadership that show how charisma can feel both authentic and performative. Practically, the plot emerged by blending timeline jumps and shifting perspectives so the reader experiences both the public rise and private sediment of choices. I wanted readers to see the trope of the charismatic leader from multiple angles — the fervent follower, the cynical advisor, the betrayed sibling — so plot beats are often mirrored: a rally that looks triumphant from the podium and catastrophic from the crowd. Real-world events — protests that turned ugly, whistleblowers, climate crisis panic — seeded specific scenes, but the heart is human: how love, fear, and grief become the fuel of political myth. Writing it felt like carving a statue that keeps revealing unexpected veins of marble; whenever I reread certain chapters I notice new echoes, and that keeps me hooked.

I get excited whenever this topic comes up, because it's one of those things where the line between individual and group blur in a lovely way. There aren’t many awards handed out that say “best group leader” and pin it to one person, so most of the formal recognition tied to BTS’s leadership actually comes as group honors that RM accepted or led the band through. The big, formal one that often gets mentioned is the South Korean government's Hwagwan Order of Cultural Merit in 2018 — that was awarded to BTS for spreading Korean culture worldwide, and RM, as group leader, was part of that honor. Beyond that, BTS has won major international prizes under his leadership: multiple Billboard Music Awards, American Music Awards, MTV awards and big domestic trophies at shows like Mnet and Melon, plus Grammy nominations that marked huge milestones. So if you’re counting trophies that reflect his leadership, look at the group’s global achievements and the national commendation like the Order of Cultural Merit — they’re the clearest, official nods to what he’s helped build with the members. For a fuller list, the band’s official pages and major music award archives are great to browse; it’s rewarding to see how many different stages RM has led them onto.

Honestly, some of my favorite deep-dives into RM's songwriting come from long-form interviews where he isn't being rushed — those let him unpack the why behind lines. I usually start with features on Billboard and Rolling Stone: they do multi-page conversations that often dive into lyrical themes, how he drafts in his notebook, and the translation choices he faces when writing in Korean and wanting global nuance. Another place I keep going back to is the 'Genius' material and the artist breakdowns on YouTube. When RM annotates lyrics or sits through a lyric-by-lyric video, you get the most granular glimpse of his thought process — line edits, the image he wanted, what he cut. Also, the BTS documentaries like 'Burn the Stage' and 'Bring the Soul' include behind-the-scenes studio moments where he talks about composing, collaboration with producers, and the emotional seeds of songs. If you hunt on YouTube, Apple Music (Zane Lowe interviews), and BTS' official channels or Weverse, you'll find clips where he literally shows his notebooks or talks through a draft. I love revisiting those to hear the stray lines that never made it, because they reveal the craft almost more than the finished product.

I got chills the first time I rewatched the Kalos saga as an adult—Ash’s encounter with Team Flare’s leader plays out like a slow burn. Ash actually crosses paths with Lysandre during the Kalos arc when the gang is spending time in Lumiose City and traveling around Kalos; at first Lysandre seems like a charismatic, almost philanthropic figure, not the obvious villain. It isn’t a single big showdown at the start, more a series of unsettling run-ins where he appears polished and in control. The real, full-on revelation of him as Team Flare’s leader and the climactic clash happens later in 'Pokémon the Series: XYZ' when Team Flare’s plan is laid bare and the stakes skyrocket. That final arc is where Ash and Lysandre go from uneasy acquaintances to direct opposition—there’s moral weight to it, and watching Ash respond felt like the sort of growth moment I cheer for. If you want the emotional payoff, the latter part of 'Pokémon the Series: XYZ' is where it lands for me.

I've found that a 360-degree leader can definitely boost team productivity, but it's not magic — it's a set of behaviors that, when done well, unlock momentum. A few years ago I was part of a cross-functional launch where no one person had formal authority over every part of the work. I started nudging designers, developers, and the product owner in small, consistent ways: sharing customer context, volunteering to unblock a dependency, and flagging risks early. Those things added up. What changed most was communication rhythm and trust. Instead of waiting for top-down directives, people began raising issues and proposing fixes faster. Because I invested time in understanding others' goals (and helped them understand mine), we avoided duplicated work and rework. That’s the productivity win: less friction, faster decisions. Practical takeaways if you want to try it — focus on influence, not control; make small, frequent contributions to peers; surface data and trade-offs so others can move quickly; and protect your team's energy by pushing up blockers. It’s a slow burn but one that makes day-to-day work feel smoother and more purposeful for everyone.

I pick this up between sips of bad office vending machine coffee and short Slack rants, and I’ll say straight off: anyone stuck in the middle of an org chart should give 'The 360 Degree Leader' a read. If you’re the person who doesn’t have formal authority but keeps projects afloat—maybe you’re coordinating across teams, mentoring newbies, or getting pulled into every crisis—you’ll find the book practical. It’s full of attitudes and small behaviors that help you influence peers, guide your boss, and lead those who report to you without a title. I liked how it frames influence as something you build in every direction: up, down, and sideways. That perspective helped me reframe awkward conversations into strategic steps, like asking better questions of my manager or quietly coaching a teammate after a sprint review. It’s not only for corporate folks either; I’ve recommended it to friends running volunteer groups and indie project teams. If you hate fluffy leadership language and prefer tangible takeaways you can try this week, this book fits. It made me more intentional, and honestly, made the office a little less chaotic.

There’s a line in 'The 360 Degree Leader' that still pops into my head on stressful days: "You don't have to hold a high position to be a leader." I keep that one as a tiny mental anchor whenever my team hits a snag. It reminds me that influence starts with how I choose to act, not a title on my email signature. Another passage I love says, "Lead up, lead across, lead down." That three-direction idea changed how I plan my week: a quick check-in upward to give my boss context, time with peers to remove friction, and focused coaching sessions with newer teammates. Practically, those short moves reduce surprises and build trust. I also find the reminder "Don't let your job title get in the way of your responsibility" brutally freeing. It lets me step in where needs are greatest without waiting for permission, and that kind of initiative tends to ripple. If you’re juggling priorities, try picking one of these lines to act on for a week and notice how people respond differently.

I was flipping through old playlists the other day and 'Replay' popped up — it reminded me how critics at the time were kind of fascinated by SHINee's debut. Reviews in 2008 often highlighted how the group blended youthful image with surprisingly polished R&B production. Many writers praised the members' vocals and harmonies, saying the boys sounded tighter than you'd expect from a rookie act, and the choreography got nods too for being crisp and catchy. Not everything was sunshine: some critics leaned on the usual SM critique — the production felt very glossy and formula-driven to a few reviewers, who wondered if SHINee could carve a distinct identity beyond the label's signature shine. Still, the overall tone skewed positive; people thought SM had a fresh package that could appeal across ages. International outlets were just starting to pick up K-pop back then, so while domestic reviews were the loudest, the global curiosity was planted, and honestly, watching that seed grow now feels kind of wild.