The first thing you'll notice about Lil Dicky is his ridiculous name, which, it turns out, is more than an elementary dick joke. The next thing you'll notice about Lil Dicky are his ridiculous lyrics. On his 2015 single, "$ave Dat Money," featuring Fetty Wap and Rich Homie Quan, he raps about his frugal approach to life: "I ain't parkin' that unless the meter green, homie/Hair cut several months in-between, homie/Hit the motherf**kin' lights when I leave, homie." 

It's almost easy to overlook Lil Dicky's prowess as a hilarious lyricist and technically skilled rapper. Still, underneath all the incisive punchlines about petty crimes and broken relationships, the rapper flips the script on mainstream rap culture, tackling issues like hypermasculinity ("Classic Male Pregame") and white privilege ("White Dude") in a manner offering both comical relief and sharp social commentary. 

"It's hard for people to take being funny seriously, even though I don't think it's mutually exclusive," Lil Dicky tells the Recording Academy. "I think I can be funny and still very musically credible." 

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After breaking out in 2013 with his viral music video "Ex-Boyfriend," Lil Dicky has since become a bona fide rap star. His 2015 debut album, Professional Rapper, topped the Top Rap Albums and the Comedy Albums charts in the U.S. and featured rap royalty like Snoop Dogg and T-Pain. 

Now, Lil Dicky is giving fans an inside look (kinda) into his life on his new FXX TV show, "Dave." Debuted this month, "Dave" tells a fictionalized version of Dave Burd, the man behind Lil Dicky, and his pursuit of his hip-hop dreams. On the show, Lil Dicky, in his neurotic mind, is convinced he's destined to be one of the best rappers of all time, and now he's proving it to the world—one dick joke at a time. 

As the show's co-creator, executive producer and lead actor, Burd steps into new artistic roles beyond the mic for the first time ever, which present him with a different set of creative challenges. 

"I guess the main challenge is one of ignorance in the sense that… there's no test in our history I can lean on," Burd says. "I'm no longer nervous about doing concerts because I can, in my head, think of all the concerts I've done and know that it's going to go well because I've done this in the past… [With the] TV show, it's my first time doing it… But I think I was able to overcome that by just going with my gut more."

Much like his sardonic songs and witty lyrics, "Dave" also deals with social issues through a sarcastic yet keen perspective some may initially miss. In one episode, Lil Dicky explains his absurd moniker to his friend's bewildered mom: "It's actually a super-intellectual commentary on hypermasculinity." It's a story he's told more than once.

"It's easy to look at a rapper named Lil Dicky—who acts the way I do, the content's the way it is, and his rap name is a small penis joke—and not inherently feel like taking him seriously as a rapper," Burd explains. "But I really think I should be taken very seriously as a rapper. I don't even feel remotely satisfied in terms of accomplishing my rap dream. I can't wait to be taken even more seriously."

The Recording Academy caught up with Lil Dicky to discuss his life as a newfound Hollywood triple threat, his creative challenges behind "Dave" and his future ambitions on- and off-screen.

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"Dave" sees you taking on the role of actor, writer and producer, on top of your main gig as a rapper. Which do you consider yourself first: actor, comedian, rapper? Is there a difference? 

There's definitely a difference between being a rapper and an actor. But I guess I consider myself to be Dave Burd, who is an actor and a rapper. I consider myself the person that I am first and foremost, and then I guess the other things are various occupations. But I guess I have more occupations now than I did when I was just a rapper, if that makes sense. And I don't think I can prioritize either of them right now, but I think rapper has more of a shelf life than actor.

How so?

I just think it will be hard for me to be a relevant rapper when I'm 50. But as an actor I might be like... Will Ferrell is still killing it. Larry David, look at him—he's an older guy. I just think the second half of my life I think will be primarily acting, but that almost makes me want to prioritize rap even more than I ever have, because I know that I only have so many years of being able to be relevant in that space.

"Dave" sees you wearing many hats and expanding your creative roles beyond music. What sorts of creative challenges did you face when you started this project? How did you try to overcome them?

I guess the main challenge is one of ignorance in the sense that… there's no test in our history I can lean on… I'm no longer nervous about doing concerts because I can, in my head, think of all the concerts I've done and know that it's going to go well because I've done this in the past. When I make a music video, I'm like, "Oh, I've done this. I know it's going to end up being good, because I've done it so many times." [With the] TV show, it's my first time doing it.

As much as I believe in myself, I don't have any context. Doing the whole thing with an ignorance of, "Am I even doing the right thing?", was a challenging perspective. But I think I was able to overcome that by just going with my gut more. There's a reason I haven't put out an album in five years, because I can just dwell on an issue and just nitpick and try to correct it over and over again.

And with the TV show, you got to make a decision and move on. It's like I'm almost forced to make decisions in ways that I'm not in music. And going into it, that was a fear because I'm like, "Oh, I like taking my time and being able to really think things through." And with this, sometimes you just got to make a decision, go with your gut and react. And that was daunting initially. But I think by the end, it was almost liberating, because it's like I do have good instincts and I think trusting my instincts is a good thing to do. And I think it's a relief to not be able to dwell on certain things for so long, because then a guy like me can just spin in circles.

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"Dave" is a fictionalized version of your life and career. How much of the scenes and scenarios that happen in the show, if anything at all, really happened in your life?

There's lots of truth in it. I couldn't give you a percentage. But I definitely pull from a lot of real-life experiences. And a lot of things you've seen in the show actually did happen. Even some of the things that feel really ridiculous and impossible, some of those things happened in real life. So, it's just kind of a combination.

Your character in the show, Dave, has a hard time convincing people to take his music and art seriously. Did you ever face that yourself as Lil Dicky?

Yeah, for sure, I think even still now, sometimes it's like, "Oh, is he even a real rapper? Or he kind of just like a [musical comedian] 'Weird Al' [Yankovic]?" It's not a big, enormous plight that I have, but there have been times where I'm onstage waiting to do a sound check and I'm sitting there and the sound guy is like, "So when is the rapper going to get here?" And I'm just like, "I'm here. Literally, I'm waiting." I think a lot of times it surprises people. It's hard for people to take being funny seriously, even though I don't think it's mutually exclusive. I think I can be funny and still very musically credible.

It's easy to look at a rapper named Lil Dicky—who acts the way I do, the content's the way it is, and his rap name is a small penis joke—and not inherently feel like taking him seriously as a rapper. But I really think I should be taken very seriously as a rapper. I don't even feel remotely satisfied in terms of accomplishing my rap dream. I can't wait to be taken even more seriously.

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Who are some of your inspirations as a rapper and as an actor?

As a rapper, the first two names that are coming to my head are Kanye [West] and Drake. And as an actor, I think about Larry David, I think about guys like Seth Rogen. I don't really think about [Leonardo DiCaprio], even though I know he's the best actor of my generation. I don't think about him as an inspiration to me. I think about comedians when I think about actors.

That being said, I want to be a great actor. I want people, when they watch my show, to be like, "Oh, he's a really good actor, too." I take pride in the acting, but I think inspirationally, I was always inspired by comedians.

Will Smith is the ultimate because I think he entered as a funny rapper and then transitioned to an iconic TV show and then became, honestly, one of the best and most revered movie stars of his time. He's a great model.

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The show depicts your character Dave struggling with splitting the Lil Dicky persona and Dave, the actual person. In a previous interview, you've also mentioned that you're "sick of being called Lil Dicky" when you meet someone. That seems to be a big theme on the show and in your real life.

Yeah, I think I face it every day. Especially before the show, I put so much into my music career to the point where I can become isolated and not do X, Y, and Z. I had a girlfriend, but… Lil Dicky became more of my priority to my own relationship. I guess I'm just a hyper-ambitious person. When people meet me on the street, people say, "Man, you're really Lil Dicky? Rap for me." It's like, "Yes, I am a rapper, but I'm also a human being just going about my life." I prefer people [taking] that into account than think that I'm just the guy they see in a music video popping a bottle of champagne or whatever I'm doing.

I wouldn't say in real life it's constantly a battle of Lil Dicky versus Dave. For me, it's always a battle of being a prisoner of my own ambition, because I feel like it requires every ounce of my energy to achieve what I feel capable of achieving. But I know that there's more in life than just achieving X, Y, and Z creatively.

I feel like if life is a circle and satisfaction's a circle, half of that circle is creative endeavors, and a half probably divided for me in two halves between music and comedy. And then there's still a whole other half of life that I think is equally as important to me, which is falling in love and having a family and all your relationships and friendships. I just don't want to neglect that other half forever.

I'm sure a lot of that is going to change now with this new level of fame via "Dave."

I don't know. I've been stuck inside ever since the show's come out, so I haven't really been able to feel that. But already, for whatever reason, I get stopped and noticed more in public than I really probably should. I get stopped at such a ridiculously high rate, even before the show, that I'm kind of used to being stopped. There was like one week of traveling I did while the show was out, and I was surprised by how many people in just one week had come up to me. It wasn't like, "Hey, man. Love the music." It was like, "Hey, man. Love the show."

I think what the show does, is it contextualizes Lil Dicky, and I think people love Lil Dicky because they relate to him. I think that's why people come up to me more, because if they saw Diddy in an airport, they'd probably be scared to go talk to him because he's so larger-than-life and I'm so not. I think the show just amplifies that relatability, because instead of me rapping all those things, it's just me being myself on camera. I've always, in my head, thought that I'm creating a life that will be as impacted by fame as possible, unfortunately. But time will tell.

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"Dave" is now part of a long history of cultural crossovers between the hip-hop and comedy worlds. Wu-Tang Clan founder RZA has acted and appeared in several comedies. Comedians Aziz Ansari and Dave Chappelle are both huge hip-hop fans. Why do you think there's so much crossover between hip-hop and comedy?

I don't know that answer. They're both entertaining, and I think they both give people an escape when they experience them. I think people love to laugh and be distracted from their day and be happy and laughing. I know when I was a kid, I wanted nothing more than to listen to Kanye talk about himself and his life and that escape and just living through another artist vicariously. I think like all art, people can relate to it and escape their own reality and enjoy something different. I don't really have a good answer for that, but it is interesting. I think both are just very cool.

I think one of the things that seems attractive for both industries, perhaps, is the concept of storytelling within each of those individual worlds, whereas a comedian, you can build a long, detailed narrative in your standup sets in the same way you can build worlds in a hip-hop album. In the same vein, hip-hop artists and comedians share their personal lives and vulnerabilities quite openly in their individual art.

That's the answer. I'm going to use that.

You want to steal my answer?

Yeah, what you said.

Have you ever thought about making "Dave," the movie?

Very roughly, but I got to think about making "Dave" [the TV show] season two first. I don't know the future, in terms of what I'll want to do or not want to do. But knowing how all-encompassing and time-consuming and, like, every detail matters so much to me, I don't know how I can be like [FX TV show] "It's Always Sunny [In Philadelphia]," where I'm on for 13 years. I just feel like I won't have a life if I do that. I've never thought about it like, "Oh, this is going to be a 13-season show." I think about it a little differently. But I don't know the answer to that. I have thought about the movie. But it's like, why don't I see where I'm at after, like, four seasons and see what needs to be resolved?

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Are you enjoying this new experience, this new creative challenge?

Oh, absolutely. I've always, first and foremost, wanted to be a comedian. I believed in myself as a comedian. That kind of is what drove me to become a rapper. And as much as I love rap, and I've always loved hip-hop, it wasn't even necessarily something I saw coming to the extent that I always saw this coming. So, it's very validating just to have a different outlet. I've been working on an album for like four-and-a-half years; you get a little burned out by it. 

We finished editing [the show] last week and now it's the first week where I'm not editing. So, I can now work on my album again, and now I'm excited to get back into music. Where before the show, nine months ago, I was ready for a break from the music. I think having both of these things is a very powerful thing for me, because like anything, you do it too much, you get a little bit burned out and it's not good to feel sick of doing something when you're trying to be funny and creative.

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Do you approach your music and the show in completely different creative mindsets? Or is there any artistic overlap?

I would say the common theme is, I call it "no stone unturned." I'm very much a no-stone-unturned kind of guy. Even if there's a moment in a scene where the take is perfect, I'll still look at every other take, just to make sure there's not one that's maybe slightly better. I really do exhaust every option, so that way I have the internal peace of mind that this moment in this piece of art cannot be better.

I think I do that exact same thing in music and everything. It's very nitpicky and hyper-neurotic and exhausting. But for me, it yields the ultimate peace of mind that I know that this could not have been better. Once I do that and I have that feeling, then I'm OK with the results. But it's like, just make sure that you don't leave anything on the table.

Do you foresee yourself continuing to work in film and TV as an actor as well as behind the scenes as a writer and producer?

I think I'm just getting started, but yes. Right now, I think I have so much on my plate with just my music career and my TV show. But I think when it's all said and done, yes, I'll try to get my hand as a producer or a writer, a production house—all those types of things. I think I will have a very active presence in the comedy and film space for the rest of my life.

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On their new Jersey club-inspired single "Bling-Bang-Bang-Born," Japanese hip-hop duo Creepy Nuts narrate the inner monologue of a confident man, unbothered by others’ negativity and the everyday pressures of life.

In this episode of Global Spin, watch Creepy Nuts deliver an electrifying performance of the track, made more lively with its bright flashing lights and changing LED backdrop.

"Before I show them my true ability/ My enemies run away without capability," they declare in Japanese on the second verse. "Raising the bar makes me very happy/ ‘Cause I’m outstanding, absolutely at No.1."

"Bling-Bang-Bang-Born" was released on January 7 via Sony Music and also serves as the season two opening track for the anime "Mashle: Magic and Muscles." The song previously went viral across social media for its accompanying "BBBB Dance."

"Basically, the song is about it’s best to be yourself, like flexing naturally. Of course, even though we put effort into writing its lyrics and music, it’s still a song that can be enjoyed without worrying about such things," they said in a press statement.

Press play on the video above to watch Creepy Nuts’ energetic performance of "Bling-Bang-Bang-Born," and don’t forget to check back to GRAMMY.com for more new episodes of Global Spin.

From Tokyo To Coachella: YOASOBI's Journey To Validate J-Pop And Vocaloid As Art Forms

Twenty-six-year-old rapper Anycia truly lives in the present. The Atlanta-born artist describes her most viral hits as if they were everyday experiences — she's simply going out of town on "BRB" and mad at a partner in "Back Outside" featuring Latto. 

Despite her calm demeanor and cadence, Anycia is a self-proclaimed "firecracker" and credits her success to her long-held confidence. 

"I [command] any room I walk in, I like to introduce myself first — you never have to worry about me walking into the room and not speaking," Anycia tells GRAMMY.com. "I speak, I yell, I twerk, I do the whole nine," adding, "I see tweets all the time [saying] ‘I like Anycia because she doesn’t rap about her private parts’... are y’all not listening?" 

With authenticity as her cornerstone, Anycia's genuine nature and versatile sound appeal broadly. On her recently released sophomore LP, Princess Pop That, Anycia's playful personality, unique vocal style and skillful flow are on full display. Over 14 tracks, Anycia keeps her usual relaxed delivery while experimenting with different beats from New Orleans, New York, California, and of course, Georgia. 

"I'm learning to be myself in different elements. I'm starting to take my sound and make it adapt to other beats and genres," she says. "But this whole album is definitely a little showing of me dibbling and dabbling.

The rising hip-hop star gained traction in June 2023 with her sultry single, "So What," which samples the song of the same name by Georgia natives Field Mob and Ciara. When Anycia dropped the snippet on her Instagram, she only had a "GoPro and a dream." Today, she has millions of views on her music videos, collaborations with artists like Flo Milli, and a critically acclaimed EP, Extra. On April 26, she'll release her debut album, Princess Pop That, featuring Cash Cobain, Luh Tyler, Kenny Beats, Karrahbooo and others. 

Ahead of the release of Princess Pop That, Anycia spoke with GRAMMY.com about her influences, maintaining individuality, working with female rappers, and using her music as a therapeutic outlet.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Where did the title Princess Pop That come from?

Princess Pop That is my little alter ego, and my Twitter and finsta name. It's kind of like a Sasha Fierce/Beyoncé type of situation. 

The cover of your album gives early 2000 vibes. Is that where you draw most of your inspiration from?

Yeah. My everyday playlist is literally early 2000s music. I even still listen to [music] from the '70s – I just like old music! 

My mom is a big influence on a lot of the music that I like. She had me when she was like 19, 20. She's a Cali girl and has great taste in music. I grew up on everything and I feel like a lot of the stuff that I'm doing, you can kind of see that influence.

I grew up on Usher, Cherish, 112, Jagged Edge, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, Teena Marie, Luther Vandross and Sam Cooke. Usher was my first concert, ever and actually my last concert — I went to his residency in Vegas with my mom. That's like our thing.

I know you had your hand in many different professions — including barbering and working at a daycare — how did you get into rapping?

I always liked music, but [thought] girl, we need some money right now. Rapping and music is cool, but I always had one foot in and one foot out. When I was [working] my jobs, it was more this is what I need to be doing right now — but I wasn't happy. 

It got to a point where I noticed that I was doing all these things, and it worked but it wasn't working for me. I didn't want to get caught up; I didn't want to be stuck doing something just because it works. I wanted to do something that I actually love to do. I decided to quit both jobs because I was literally making me miserable. 

I feel like that's what happened with a lot of our parents — they lose focus of their actual goals or what they actually wanted to do, and they get so caught up in what works in the moment. One thing about me, if I don't like something I'm done. I don't care how much money I put into it, if I'm not happy and it doesn’t feed me spiritually and mentally I'm not doing it. Right after [I quit] I was in the studio back-to-back making music. It eventually paid off.

Walk us through your music making process. 

A blunt, a little Don Julio Reposado, a space heater because I’m anemic. Eating some tacos and chicken wings or whatever I’m feeling at the moment. It’s not that deep to me, I like to be surrounded by good energy in the studio. 

People like to say female rappers aren’t welcoming or don’t like to work with each other. You’re clearly debunking this myth with songs like "Back Outside" featuring Latto and "Splash Brothers'' featuring Karrahbooo. What was it like working with them and how did these collaborations come about? 

Karrahbooo and I were already friends before we started rapping. It was harder for people to get us to do music because when we were around each other we weren't like, "Oh we need to do a song together." We had a friendship. 

Working with Latto, we didn't collab on that song in the studio. I did the song myself after being really upset at a man. I made the song just venting. I didn't even think that I was ever gonna put that song out, honestly. Latto ended up hitting me up within a week's span just giving me my flowers and telling me she wanted to do a song [together]. I ended up sending her "Back Outside" because I felt like she would eat [it up] and she did just that. 

She did! Are there any other female rappers you’d like to work with?

I really want to work with Cardi B — I love her! I'm also looking forward to collaborating with GloRilla. 

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Many female rappers come into the industry and feel like they have to start changing themself to fit a certain aesthetic or archetype. However, everything about you seems super unique — from your voice to your style and appearance. How do you maintain your individuality? 

Being yourself is literally the easiest job ever. When you're doing everything you're supposed to be doing, you're being genuine while you're doing it and you’re just being 110 percent authentically yourself — I feel like everything works out for you perfectly fine. 

I haven't had the urge to change anything or do anything different. The reason people started liking me was because I was being myself. Even if it wasn't accepted, I'm not going to stop being myself. I do what works for me and I feel like everybody should just do what works for them and not what works for the people outside of them. 

That's what creates discomfort for yourself, that’s how you become a depressed artist — trying to please everybody [but] yourself. I feel like people lose sight of that fact. Aside from this being a job or a career for me now, it’s still my outlet and a way I express myself;  it's still my form of art. I will never let anybody take that from me. It's intimate for me. 

Speaking of intimacy, what was the inspiration behind "Nene’s Prayer"? I want to know who was playing with you.

I was just having a little therapy session in the booth and everyone ended up liking it. Instead of getting mad, flipping out and wanting to go to jail I just put in a song. Even though I said some messed up things in the song, it’s better than me doing those messed up things. 

Have you ever written a lyric or song that you felt went too far or was too personal?

Nope. A lot of the [topics] that I [rap about] is just stuff girls really want to say, but don't have the courage to say. But me, I don’t give a damn! If it resonates with you then it does, and if it doesn't — listen to somebody else. 

Exactly! What advice would you give to upcoming artists trying to get noticed or have that one song that pops?

If you got something that you want to put out into the world, you just have to have that confidence for yourself, and you have to do it for you and not for other people. I feel like people make music and do certain things for other people. That's why [their song] doesn't do what it needs to do because it’s a perspective of what other people want, rather than doing [a song] that you're comfortable with and what you like.

How do you want people to feel after listening to ‘Princess Pop That?’

I just want the girls, and even the boys, to get in their bag. Regardless of how you went into listening to the album, I want you to leave with just a little bit more self confidence. If you’re feeling low, I want you to feel like "I am that bitch." 

It's a no judgment zone. I want everybody to find their purpose, walk in their truth and feel like "that girl" with everything they do. You could even be in a grocery store, I want you to feel like the baddest bitch. 

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In 2020, Megan Thee Stallion solidified herself as one of rap's most promising new stars, thanks to her hit single "Savage." Not only was it her first No. 1 song on the Billboard Hot 100, but the "sassy, moody, nasty" single also helped Megan win three GRAMMYs in 2021.

In this episode of GRAMMY Rewind, revisit the sentimental moment the Houston "Hottie" accepted one of those golden gramophones, for Best New Artist.

"I don't want to cry," Megan Thee Stallion said after a speechless moment at the microphone. Before starting her praises, she gave a round of applause to her fellow nominees in the category, who she called "amazing."

Along with thanking God, she also acknowledged her manager, T. Farris, for "always being with me, being by my side"; her record label, 300 Entertainment, for "always believing in me, sticking by through my craziness"; and her mother, who "always believed I could do it."

Megan Thee Stallion's "Savage" remix with Beyoncé also helped her win Best Rap Song and Best Rap Performance that night — marking the first wins in the category by a female lead rapper.

Press play on the video above to watch Megan Thee Stallion's complete acceptance speech for Best New Artist at the 2021 GRAMMY Awards, and remember to check back to GRAMMY.com for more new episodes of GRAMMY Rewind.

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"You don't know that people are going to 40 years later call you up and say, ‘Can you talk about this record from 40 years ago?’"

That was Cory Robbins, former president of Profile Records, reaction to speaking to Grammy.com about one of the first albums his then-fledgling label released. Run-DMC’s self-titled debut made its way into the world four decades ago this week on March 27, 1984 and established the group, in Robbins’ words, "the Beatles of hip-hop." 

Rarely in music, or anything else, is there a clear demarcation between old and new. Styles change gradually, and artistic movements usually get contextualized, and often even named, after they’ve already passed from the scene. But Run-DMC the album, and the singles that led up to it, were a definitive breaking point. Rap before it instantly, and eternally, became “old school.” And three guys from Hollis, Queens — Joseph "Run" Simmons, Jason "Jam Master Jay" Mizell, Darryl "D.M.C." McDaniels — helped turn a burgeoning genre on its head.

What exactly was different about Run-DMC? Some of the answers can be glimpsed by a look at the record’s opening song. "Hard Times" is a cover of a Kurtis Blow track from his 1980 debut album. The connection makes sense. Kurtis and Run’s older brother Russell Simmons met in college, and Russell quickly became the rapper’s manager. That led to Run working as Kurtis’ DJ. Larry Smith, who produced Run-DMC, even played on Kurtis’ original version of the song.

But despite those tie-ins, the two takes on "Hard Times" are night and day. Kurtis Blow’s is exactly what rap music was in its earliest recorded form: a full band playing something familiar (in this case, a James Brown-esque groove, bridge and percussion breakdown inclusive.)

What Run-DMC does with it is entirely different. The song is stripped down to its bare essence. There’s a drum machine, a sole repeated keyboard stab, vocals, and… well, that’s about it. No solos, no guitar, no band at all. Run and DMC are trading off lines in an aggressive near-shout. It’s simple and ruthlessly effective, a throwback to the then-fading culture of live park jams. But it was so starkly different from other rap recordings of the time, which were pretty much all in the style of Blow’s record, that it felt new and vital.

"Production-wise, Sugar Hill [the record label that released many key early rap singles] built themselves on the model of Motown, which is to say, they had their own production studios and they had a house band and they recorded on the premises," explains Bill Adler, who handled PR for Run-DMC and other key rap acts at the time.

"They made magnificent records, but that’s not how rap was performed in parks," he continues. "It’s not how it was performed live by the kids who were actually making the music."

Run-DMC’s musical aesthetic was, in some ways, a lucky accident. Larry Smith, the musician who produced the album, had worked with a band previously. In fact, the reason two of the songs on the album bear the subtitle "Krush Groove" is because the drum patterns are taken from his band Orange Krush’s song “Action.”

Read more: Essential Hip-Hop Releases From The 1970s: Kurtis Blow, Grandmaster Flash, Sugarhill Gang & More

But by the time sessions for Run-DMC came around, the money had run out and, despite his desire to have the music done by a full band, Smith was forced to go without them and rely on a drum machine. 

His artistic partner on the production side was Russell Simmons. Simmons, who has been accused over the past seven years of numerous instances of sexual assault dating back decades, was back in 1983-4 the person providing the creative vision to match Smith’s musical knowledge.

Orange Krush’s drummer Trevor Gale remembered the dynamic like this (as quoted in Geoff Edgers’ Walk This Way: Run-DMC, Aerosmith, and the Song that Changed American Music Forever): “Larry was the guy who said, 'Play four bars, stop on the fifth bar, come back in on the fourth beat of the fifth bar.' Russell was the guy that was there that said, ‘I don’t like how that feels. Make it sound like mashed potato with gravy on it.’”

It wasn’t just the music that set Run-DMC apart from its predecessors. Their look was also starkly different, and that influenced everything about the group, including the way their audience viewed them.

Most of the first generation of recorded rappers were, Bill Adler remembers, influenced visually by either Michael Jackson or George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic. Run-DMC was different.

"Their fashion sense was very street oriented," Adler explains. "And that was something that emanated from Jam Master Jay. Jason just always had a ton of style. He got a lot of his sartorial style from his older brother, Marvin Thompson. Jay looked up to his older brother and kind of dressed the way that Marvin did, including the Stetson hat. 

"When Run and D told Russ, Jason is going to be our deejay, Russell got one look at Jay and said, ‘Okay, from now on, you guys are going to dress like him.’"

Run, DMC, and Jay looked like their audience. That not only set them apart from the costumed likes of Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, it also cemented the group’s relationship with their listeners. 

"When you saw Run-DMC, you didn’t see celebrity. You saw yourself," DMC said in the group’s recent docuseries. 

Read more: 20 Iconic Hip-Hop Style Moments: From Run-D.M.C. To Runways

Another thing that set Run-DMC (the album) and Run-DMC (the group) apart from what came before was the fact that they released a cohesive rap album. Nine songs that all belonged together, not just a collection of already-released singles and some novelties. Rappers had released albums prior to Run-DMC, but that’s exactly what they were: hits and some other stuff — sung love ballads or rock and roll covers, or other experiments rightfully near-forgotten.

"There were a few [rap] albums [at the time], but they were pretty crappy. They were usually just a bunch of singles thrown together," Cory Robbins recalls.

Not this album. It set a template that lasted for years: Some social commentary, some bragging, a song or two to show off the DJ. A balance of records aimed at the radio and at the hard-core fans. You can still see traces of Run-DMC in pretty much every rap album released today.

Listeners and critics reacted. The album got a four-star review in Rolling Stone with “the music…that backs these tracks is surprisingly varied, for all its bare bones” and an A minus from Robert Christgau who claimed “It's easily the canniest and most formally sustained rap album ever.” Just nine months after its release, Run-DMC was certified gold, the first rap LP ever to earn that honor. "Rock Box" also single-handedly invented rap-rock, thanks to Eddie Martinez’s loud guitars. 

There is another major way in which the record was revolutionary. The video for "Rock Box" was the first rap video to ever get into regular rotation on MTV and, the first true rap video ever played on the channel at all, period. Run-DMC’s rise to MTV fame represented a significant moment in breaking racial barriers in mainstream music broadcasting. 

"There’s no overstating the importance of that video," Adler tells me. vIt broke through the color line at MTV and opened the door to a cataclysmic change." 

"Everybody watched MTV forty years ago," Robbins agrees. "It was a phenomenal thing nationwide. Even if we got three or four plays a week of ‘Rock Box’ on MTV, that did move the needle."

All of this: the new musical style, the relatable image, the MTV pathbreaking, and the attendant critical love and huge sales (well over 10 times what their label head was expecting when he commissioned the album from a reluctant Russell Simmons — "I hoping it would sell thirty or forty thousand," Robbins says now): all of it contributed to making Run-DMC what it is: a game-changer.

"It was the first serious rap album," Robbins tells me. And while you could well accuse him of bias — the group making an album at all was his idea in the first place — he’s absolutely right. 

Run-DMC changed everything. It split the rap world into old school and new school, and things would never be the same.

Perhaps the record’s only flaw is one that wouldn’t be discovered for years. As we’re about to get off the phone, Robbins tells me about a mistake on the cover, one he didn’t notice until the record was printed and it was too late. 

There was something (Robbins doesn’t quite recall what) between Run and DMC in the cover photo. The art director didn’t like it and proceeded to airbrush it out. But he missed something. On the vinyl, if you look between the letters "M" and "C,", you can see DMC’s disembodied left hand, floating ghost-like in mid-air. While it was an oversight, it’s hard not to see this as a sign, a sort of premonition that the album itself would hang over all of hip-hop, with an influence that might be hard to see at first, but that never goes away. 

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