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www.groovekorea.com / March 2014 4 H u s t l e o r d i e W omen. Alcohol. Partying in the biggest, hottest clubs in Asia. That’s all pretty awesome, right? The life of a rapper. And it’s not like you have to wake up early and work 12- to 15-hour days to have it. Or spend your own money to build a brand. Or go into “work” when you don’t feel like it. Right? Don’t go putting in your two weeks yet. I haven’t yet told you about the loneliness, the depression and the financial deprivation. I haven’t told you of the true cost of being an international musi- cian. Let’s start at the beginning. I’ve been a hustler all my life. As a student at the University of Cincinnati, I started a hip-hop-centered organization, was the president of my fraternity and was a leader in student govern- ment. This was thrilling to me. It was my response to complacency. Complacency is that motivation-destroying specter that whispers to you every morning that your good enough is good enough. Moving to Korea to teach was an act of rebellion against com- placency. I boarded that plane with $200 to my name. My first day in Korea left me with $80, after a taxi driver convinced me to ride from Incheon to Bundang (and my mistrust of Korean taxi drivers began). Although my situation was far from ideal, I had never felt freer. I had nothing to lose, and I was OK with that. It made me work harder. I soon realized, however, that teaching was also complacency. I enjoyed it, but it was safe. So, I began diving. I began performing with Carlos Galvan (from the original K-pop group Uptown), diving into the Korean entertainment industry. I created a band called Pinnacle & The Antidote, diving into the Korean live music scene. I started working as a guest host at TBS eFM 101.3, diving into a radio career. But in all of this diving, I began to drown. Teaching became a burden; class was an impediment on my track to suc- cess. Then, something happened that changed my life. One day I received a text: I was being taken off my part-time radio show, “Weekend Chart.” Before I could demand an expla- nation, more news: I was being moved from weekends to seven days a week. A new show, “Night Vibe,” was born. After hi-fiving everyone in my immediate vicinity, I ran out and did a jump kick in the air. I landed, but my head was still in the clouds. I had to make a decision: stay safe or hustle. I quit my teaching job. I replaced Pinnacle & The Antidote with a new band, Pinnacle & RFD. My life had taken a new direction. I was energized. I started a company called Planet Hustle. I paid for marketing and promo- tion, music videos, albums. I began DJing professionally. I bought a ton of music equipment. I successfully went broke, again. But seeing an account balance of “0.00” didn’t faze me anymore. At some point I began to feel bored. I began to feel, well, com- placent. I felt a lack of inspiration. I lost a relationship with some- one very special to me because I put my art before her. I had no family or anyone else I could fundamentally relate to. I was suddenly fighting another battle, this time against depres- sion. It was the first time in a long time I felt really, truly alone, and it hurt. Feeling like I had nothing and nowhere else to turn, I began to pray. I prayed for clarity and strength, and I received it. I realized that it was time to leave. My goals were and still are bigger than Korea. Now that I’ve left Korea, my opportunities in entertainment have expanded. I’m pushing my single, “Work To Do,” to a broader audience, I’m booking international DJs in various entertainment establishments in Asia and I’m securing more international dates as a performer/DJ. As long as I reject complacency, work like I have nothing left to lose and stay focused, I can achieve my goals — whether they are in the music industry or any other endeavor I pursue. My name is Pinnacle TheHustler. It’s more than a name. It’s more than a brand. It’s my way of life. Music & Arts Only in dreams In her tiny 3.6-by-6-by-2.4-meter Seoul studio, Korean artist Lee Jee-young has been constructing and capturing her own dreamscapes without the luxury of outside help. This means no other contributors and, a more rare occurrence these days, no Photoshop (or any other kind of digital manipulation, for that matter). The Hongik University graduate says she chooses not to use Photo - shop because of her personal art philosophy. And although she does get a kick out of people’s disbelief, she says that what is more impor - tant to her, and hopefully the viewer, is the subject matter. Story by Remy Raitt Read it online in March or in print in April Food A vegan leader branches out Chances are, if you’ve ever visited High Street Market, you already know the illustrious Mipa Lee. She’s most widely known as the brains and baker behind Alien’s Day Out, Seoul’s lead provisioner of sug - ary-sweet confections made without eggs, butter or milk. In short, she’s responsible for making Alien’s Day Out — both the blog and bakeshop — synonymous with vegan indulgence. For anyone walking the egg- and dairy-free trail in Seoul, Mipa’s a mammoth. To add to her list of professional accomplishments, she’s now also the purveyor of PLANT, a studio/restaurant that’s been in the making for years. Story by Shelley DeWees Read it online in March or in print in April Hot on: www.groovekoreA.com By Pinnacle TheHustler, hip-hop musician and entrepreneur Editorial To comment, email editor@groovekorea.com EDITORIAL How i went From Homeless to Hustler