A single album, locked away from the internet, guarded like a museum relic, and tied to one of the strangest chains of events in music history. “Once Upon a Time in Shaolin” by the Wu-Tang Clan is not just rare—it is singular.
With only one physical copy in existence, the album has moved through secret studios, a $2 million auction, a federal evidence vault, and finally into the hands of an anonymous art collective.
Its story blends hip-hop, fine art, crime, and obsession, making it unlike anything else in recorded music.
A One-of-One Album Against the Digital Era
Instagram | wutangclan | Wu-Tang Clan’s Once Upon a Time in Shaolin is the world’s only single-copy, ultra-exclusive album.
“Once Upon a Time in Shaolin” was recorded quietly between 2007 and 2013. The project featured verses from nearly every Wu-Tang Clan member, excluding Ol’ Dirty Bastard, who died in 2004. Method Man appears alongside his longtime collaborator Redman. The album also includes contributions from Wu affiliates the Killa Beez, FC Barcelona soccer players, Dutch actress Carice van Houten, and Cher.
The concept came from Wu-Tang leader RZA and Dutch-Moroccan producer Tarik “Cilvaringz” Azzougarh. Their idea was simple but radical: make one album, treat it like fine art, and never release it commercially.
“We’ll make one single album, treat it like it’s the Mona Lisa,” RZA says in a podcast interview that opens the documentary “The Disciple.”
No digital files exist. The music was burned onto two CDs, then erased from all devices. The final product was sealed in a hand-crafted silver box and sold with a contract that bans commercial release for 88 years, meaning no one can legally own a copy until 2103.
The physical presentation became part of the mythology. The CDs sit inside a silver case, placed within a smaller silver box, then enclosed in a hand-carved nickel silver box. That box rests in a cedarwood case wrapped in brown cow leather. Every surface carries the Wu-Tang “W,” including a custom-carved key.
During early sales discussions, RZA compared ownership to holding “the scepter of an Egyptian king.” The comparison stuck.
A $2 Million Auction and an Unexpected Buyer
In 2015, the album went to auction and sold for $2 million. The winning bidder was Martin Shkreli, a pharmaceutical executive who would soon gain global notoriety. At the time, Shkreli was not yet a household name. He beat out billionaires who planned to donate the album to museums or hip-hop archives.
Soon after finalizing the purchase, Shkreli acquired the drug Daraprim and raised its price from $13.50 to $750 per pill, drawing outrage from lawmakers and the public. Rep. Elijah E. Cummings famously told him, “My constituents. They don’t buy Wu-Tang Clan albums,” during a House Oversight Committee hearing.
Two months after receiving the album, Shkreli was arrested on unrelated securities fraud charges. He was later sentenced to seven years in prison.
As part of Shkreli’s conviction, he was ordered to forfeit $7.4 million in assets. That list included a Picasso drawing, a machine built by Alan Turing, and “Once Upon a Time in Shaolin.” The album was seized and stored in a Justice Department vault, where it sat for years.
In 2021, the U.S. government sold the album to PleasrDAO, a collective of digital art collectors, for the equivalent of $4 million or more in cryptocurrency.
The Listening Party That Felt Like a Heist
Instagram | utahaudio | Escorted by security, the album briefly played for guests with sealed phones at Sundance.
At the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah, the album briefly resurfaced. Around 40 people attended a tightly controlled listening event tied to the premiere of “The Disciple,” directed by Joanna Natasegara.
Phones were sealed in Faraday bags. Heavy security escorted the album. Only about 20 minutes of the two-hour-and-12-minute record were played.
“This is sacred music. It comes from a sacred place,” said Pleasr spokesperson Spencer Harrison.
The room included hip-hop fans, journalists, Pleasr members, and filmmaker Barry Jenkins, who recalled taking two buses in Miami as a teenager to buy “Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)” in 1993.
What the Music Sounds Like
The playback opened with a 13-minute sampler originally created by Cilvaringz for a 2015 presale session at MoMA PS1. The sound was dense and cinematic—sirens, thunder, orchestration, and rapid-fire verses layered together. Shabazz of the Killa Beez, who appears on eight songs and five skits, shouted reactions from the crowd.
One moment stood out. A swirl of horns and airy female vocals filled the room.
“This is the Cher song!” said Cyrus Bozorgmehr, a friend of Cilvaringz who helped broker the original deal.
Cher’s involvement came from a direct email request. She recorded five takes, then asked if more were needed. Her hook was cut off during the listening session, but applause still followed. Harrison later revealed that another skit features Cher as a night character chatting with a police officer on Staten Island.
Absent Voices and Internal Divisions
Neither RZA nor any Wu-Tang members attended the Sundance event. RZA had a scheduling conflict. Cilvaringz stayed away due to concerns about extended border detention. Other members declined involvement in “The Disciple,” and some tensions remain unresolved.
Method Man appears in the film as the sharpest critic. He argues that once the project shifted into a full Wu-Tang album, some members felt misled. Had they known it was meant as a permanent artifact, the approach might have changed.
“I can’t stand Cilvaringz,” Method Man says in the documentary, calling the album “a gimmick.”
Cilvaringz counters that he initially approached artists for guest verses, not a formal Wu-Tang release, and feared renegotiating once momentum built.
The Shkreli Fallout
Instagram | wu_gambinoz | Wu-Tang’s rare album remains a polarizing protest against the digital devaluation of music.
Shkreli’s behavior after buying the album added another layer of chaos. A proposed publicity plan involved a staged online feud and a resale to fans. Instead, insults escalated. According to the film, replica AK-47s found during an FBI raid were intended for a video threat directed at the group.
“Martin happened to this story, and no one could have predicted that,” Natasegara said. “In the larger picture, he’s a blip.”
PleasrDAO and the Push for Preservation
PleasrDAO views itself as a caretaker rather than an owner. Founder Jamis Johnson led the effort to acquire the album, believing it needed protection from misuse and piracy. Johnson died in 2025 following injuries from an ATV accident.
In 2024, Pleasr won a legal victory that forced Shkreli to hand over any copies he may have made, restoring the album’s singular “one-of-one” status.
The group is now considering ways to let the public experience the music without violating the original contract. Museum-style listening events remain a possibility.
“Once Upon a Time in Shaolin” remains an unusual experiment. It questions the culture of streaming, examines what it means to own art, and transforms a hip-hop album into a pilgrimage object. The album’s story continues to inspire debate, admiration, and sometimes frustration simultaneously.
Its journey also highlights broader questions about creativity, value, and accessibility in the digital age, as well as the personal consequences of ambition and risk-taking.
Legally, decades must pass before it can be widely heard. In the meantime, the album exists in fragments: curated listening experiences, court files, whispered impressions, and a documentary keeping most of the music out of public reach. Wu-Tang followers know the story is far from finished.
