It’s 1986. Rap music is explosive and on the rise but still misunderstood and barely represented in the mainstream. The leading innovators are Run-DMC, a trio from Queens who sport black leather jackets and unlaced Adidas sneakers. Two albums into their career, Joseph “Run” Simmons, Darryl “DMC” McDaniels and Jason “Jam Master Jay” Mizell are already minor stars and musical revolutionaries. For their third album, producer Rick Rubin, a 22-year-old white kid from New York University, comes up with a crazy idea: He recruits Steven Tyler and Joe Perry, the leaders of the down-and-out arena-rock group Aerosmith, to collaborate with Run-DMC on a new version of their 1970s staple “Walk This Way.”  The rappers hate the idea. The rockers, struggling with drugs and low record sales, don’t know what to make of Rubin’s pitch. But on a Sunday in March, they meet in a Manhattan recording studio to create what will become one of the most important songs of the modern pop era. This is the oral history of Run-DMC’s cover of “Walk This Way.” (Some responses have been edited for length and clarity.)  [Help us annotate ‘Walk This Way’ lyrics with your memories of the song]  Unreleased footage Run-DMC and Aerosmith's day in the studio  (Erin Patrick OâConnor / The Washington Post)  It’s Dec. 15, 1974, and Perry, Aerosmith’s 24-year-old lead guitarist, is messing with a riff before a gig in Honolulu. He asks drummer Joey Kramer to play along. Tyler, originally a drummer but now the band’s singer, jumps up when he hears the jam.  I was really into the Meters, the esoteric, funky kind of music. Sly and the Family Stone. I started fooling around on this riff. I asked Joey to play basic, straight twos and fours. Like an AC/DC song. If I had a drum machine I would have done it. And Steven heard it and I think he came up onstage and . . . sat down at the drums and played something a little bit different than Joey was doing. I’m not sure.  He was up onstage doing sound check and he started playing that song and I ran out from the dressing room and started playing. I came up with it. Let’s just leave it at that. I’m a drummer at heart.  Basically, to the best of my recollection, I came up with it. I don’t remember anybody else being a part of it. It was a no-brainer. The drum lick kind of goes hand in hand with the guitar lick.  No, actually, Steven came up with it. He’s a drummer. And Joey embellished on it with the high-hat figure.  They both had a hand in that, but the main bom, da, be-dom da da, that one part is something that, after talking to Jack, Steven played that part. As far as the rest of it, the swing and the feel and all that, that’s Joey. I think it’s probably both of them.  Did Steven or Joey invent it? The jury’s still out on that one. Now, Steven is a drummer at heart and he’s very inventive and creative. But then you have to take into consideration that Steven would probably take credit for everything that’s on every Aerosmith record.  Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler, left, and Joe Perry in May 1974 in New York City. (Waring Abbott/Getty Images)  When we needed lyrics, we would go out for walks. Being Sunday afternoon, there was absolutely no one on the street. When we got to 42nd Street, “Young Frankenstein” was playing in one of those theaters. The whole band went in to see the movie, and when that line came up — “Walk this way” — we were all in hysterics. And when we got back to the studio, I started walking around like Marty Feldman.  If you listen to the cadence, the way Steven sings, it’s almost a rap. He just puts a melody on top of it. “Walk This Way” was the predecessor of white rap in a way.  “Walk This Way” was the first Aerosmith song I ever heard, and I remember it distinctly. I was 10 years old. It was and still is one of the most exciting lyrics about teenage sexuality I’ve ever heard and one of the best f---ing guitar riffs of all time.  Aerosmith in 1976 — from left, Steven Tyler, Tom Hamilton, Joe Perry, Brad Whitford and Joey Kramer. (Fin Costello/Redferns/Getty Images)  As Aerosmith tours arenas, in New York City a kid from Barbados, Joseph Saddler, renames himself Grandmaster Flash. He experiments with DJ-ing, searching for records with beats he can mix on his turntables. There are tapes of Grandmaster Flash using the beat from “Walk This Way” as early as 1978 — eight years before Run-DMC’s remake.  When I went record shopping, I didn’t just look in one area. I looked in the rock, jazz, funk, disco, R&B, alternative, Caribbean section. And in looking, I was able to take one copy out and look at the vinyl in the light and see that it was pretty shallow. And when it’s shallow that means it is mild accompaniment in the song. That “Toys in the Attic,” when I got that it was relatively new.  Those breakbeats . . . we would listen all day to music trying to find one beat that was good enough for us to rap on. We loved [“Walk This Way”] because it was rock-and-roll. There were DJs in the early ’70s. When Flash came out, he took it to the next level. He understood that when you played the song, the greatest part of the song was the break, when it came down to the drums. So he decided to play just the break.  They were unbiased when it came to finding the beat. The beat could have been from Stravinsky. Out of that psychology comes this idea that music is music. That was an oversight by the critics and the journalists and an awful lot of the people who were trying to make judgment calls on what rap was and wasn’t. They would try to say it was an urban culture. They just knew the DJ was doing something and the rapper was on top of it and the dancers were on top of it. A lot of them didn’t delve into the alchemy of what was used by the DJ.  We found beats like Billy Squier’s “The Big Beat,” Bob James’s “Take Me to the Mardi Gras,” “Mary, Mary” from the Monkees. And we would just find great beats that were usually in people’s crates and had the name scratched out. So we did not know the name of the song was “Walk This Way.”  Our thing was, “Go get ‘Toys in the Attic’ and play number four.” We had no idea that there was singing or what the song was, but we knew the beat. It was a hard breakbeat.  That record was done for hip-hop after about 45 seconds.  Although DJs such as Kool Herc emerged in the early 1970s, the first rap single arrived in 1979 with the Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight.” Kurtis Blow followed with “The Breaks” in 1980. Blow’s manager was a young music promoter named Russell Simmons. Joseph Simmons, Russell’s little brother, would DJ for Blow. Joseph and a friend, Darryl McDaniels, started hanging around Jason Mizell, a DJ who would soon go by Jam Master Jay. They formed Run-DMC in 1981 and released their first single, “It’s Like That”/“Sucker M.C.’s” in March 1983.  Joey and D were kids who lived in what was a heroin- and crack-devastated neighborhood. But they went to the Catholic school and were good kids. Jay’s a kid who hung out in the park, was tough and was more street. Run-DMC, they were hardcore.  That was all marketing and image. The actual reality of the whole matter is I was a street kid from Harlem and they were from suburbia and had parents and lived in a house. And they’re from Queens.  Run-DMC with Russell Simmons in April 1985. (James Hamilton/From the Bill Adler archive at the Cornell Hip Hop Collection)  All the Sugar Hill [label] records were very produced, very slick, very much like funk records. They were great, but they were a type. When Run-DMC came around, it really was a new sound. And it didn’t take instantly.  R&B hated us and we hated them. We were from the ’hood. Black people that did R&B stuff wore alligator shoes and no socks. They were middle-class and didn’t like the ’hood. Not only white America didn’t want to hear from these n-----s, it was black America [too]. Ebony magazine put Run-DMC on the cover after Rolling Stone. BET played Run-DMC after MTV.  Producer, Def Jam Records president  The notion of hearing rap in the middle of Whitney Houston or Luther Vandross on a black station? They didn’t play hip-hop.  I remember trying to break Run-DMC at WBLS. They’re playing Peabo Bryson and Natalie Cole. . . . [Program director] Frankie Crocker was the king of New York. Like a radio god. He wouldn’t play this stuff. Barry Mayo was at Kiss-FM. They switched the format to R&B and Barry couldn’t get a leg up on Frankie. He needed something to break the mold, and I was like: “Barry, just put this record on the radio. Play it once or twice. See what happens.” It was “Sucker M.C.’s.” He played it twice. The phones lit up. From that day on, Barry started playing more and more rap records. Eventually it became the number one radio station in New York.  Run-DMC — from left, Jason “Jam Master Jay” Mizell, Darryl “DMC” McDaniels and Joseph “Run” Simmons — in Amsterdam in 1987. (Trinity Mirror/Mirrorpix/Alamy)  Rick Rubin was a 21-year-old NYU student when he met Russell Simmons at a nightclub in 1984. Before long, they were partners in Def Jam Recordings, a label run out of Rubin’s room at NYU. Rubin would eventually become Run-DMC’s producer.  We both lived in the same NYU dorm. The Weinstein dormitory between Waverly and Eighth. In the middle of the night, you would see him walking across the lobby from getting some food and he would be wearing a wool hat, sunglasses and leg warmers. We always thought he was a weird figure, but then when you began talking to him, you saw he had this encyclopedic knowledge about music and film. And he also knew that the more unique the idea, the more likely it was to achieve success. He never bought into this idea that you had to follow a mold that other people had made in order to succeed creatively. And he saw no separation between the underground and the mainstream.  He was brilliant. I knew this kid had it. I had no idea he was going to be the greatest producer of all time. But he was definitely hip-hop. He didn’t know what “def” meant. He thought it was deaf. That was kind of the beauty, his ignorance. Of not having grown up with R&B.  Rick was not going to listen to only the standard fare as a white suburbanite. He was also going to listen to the punk rock and the hardcore that was around and he dug the hell out of that, and I think he was disappointed that stuff didn’t break through. He saw rap breaking through in the way that punk and hardcore did not.  As Run-DMC builds an audience, a group of past-their-prime rockers from Boston find themselves struggling. In 1979, Perry quit Aerosmith after a backstage fight with Tyler. He returned in 1984, and famed record company executive John Kalodner signed the band to Geffen. Van Halen producer Ted Templeman was brought on to produce their comeback, 1985’s “Done with Mirrors.” But many of the same problems remained.  One of the things that would bring [Perry and Tyler’s] relationship back together many, many times is somebody sold them some drugs. . . . The good times always typically included cocaine. They had a very sick bond . . . between them over that stuff: “Good to see you. Yeah, let’s do a line.” They went back into the one thing they could agree on.  I knew I wanted the band to sign with Kalodner. He is one of the most unique people I have ever met in the world. He’s brilliant. He’s got a long beard, and in the summertime, or in the warm weather, he wears a white suit and looks like John Lennon.  Wife of Joe Perry, model  There would be no Aerosmith if it wasn’t for John Kalodner.  I loved Aerosmith. I really wanted to sign Aerosmith. I even got David Geffen involved in the negotiations to sign them. . . . Then we made this first bum record with a superstar producer and it was a bomb. They were high and Templeman was high.  I had a great time making that record, and Steven was one of the most amazing guys. But we had to do that record in Berkeley because they didn’t want those guys to score. They didn’t want them to be in L.A. or San Francisco. I wasn’t familiar with the board. As a producer, if you know your room and the mic preamps, you know how things are going to sound. I don’t think I made Joey’s drums sound as good as they could have, or Joe’s guitar. And in those days, everybody did a little bit of something. The guys in Van Halen had the doobies. Maybe everybody had a little bit of blow around. Everybody I knew. In a restaurant, Michael McDonald and I would be doing lines as they were vacuuming under the tables to close up.  “Mirrors” was not a success. It sold a half a million copies, which was a failure for the band at the time. I helped to [convince] the band that it is time to start listening. Because David Geffen does not have to release your next record. . . . Now they’ve got to listen.  Aerosmith was done at that point. Their last couple of records had been huge bombs. They had fallen into major drug problems. They were a little bit of a joke.  Rick Rubin with Run-DMC. (Sebastian Piras/From the Bill Adler archive at the Cornell Hip Hop Collection)  At the same time, Rubin has an idea. He has been recording Run-DMC’s third album, “Raising Hell.”  We had finished the album . . . and I listened to it and felt like there was something missing. That idea worked simultaneously with this conversation about how hip-hop and rap music was not music. To people who were not already fans of it, the gap was so far that not only did they not understand it, but they did not understand it to be music. I was looking for a way to bridge that gap in the story of finding a piece of music that was familiar and already hip-hop-friendly so that on the hip-hop side it would make sense and on the non-hip-hop side you’d see it wasn’t so far away.  It was impossible to get [Run-DMC] played on pop radio. Not hard — not even in the realm of possibility.  Rick tells me, “I need a white rock song that can be turned into a rap song.” And we spent about 10 or 15 minutes on the phone, shooting around ideas. We kept on coming back to “Back in Black” by AC/DC, but the Beastie Boys had just recorded a version. Then Rick goes, “How about ‘Walk This Way’?” And he begins to sing it on the phone, with imitation scratches. At this point, I go, “Rick, that’s a fantastic idea.” But I said, “You know you have to get Steve Tyler and Joe Perry to play on it.” And Rick says: “They’ll never do it. Old white guys don’t get this rap thing.”  When I was growing up, Aerosmith was the biggest band in the world. It didn’t seem realistic. It seemed like a dream for it to happen.  I was going to interview Aerosmith in Boston and Rick gave me a tape to give to them. I was sitting down with Steven and I said: “There’s this rap group in New York. You may not be aware of it but a lot of these types of groups in this hip-hop area are really interested in your record, and I think they’d be thrilled if you’d record with them.”  Rick Rubin, he came to me and said, “I have this great idea.” I didn’t think in terms of a watershed moment. I just thought it was a great idea. I thought in my head, “Good luck to you working with two people who are higher than a kite.”  I had no idea whether this was good or bad. It sounded like it could be great. It also sounded like it could be a disaster. [Kalodner] was the one who called the shot on it. Tyler was into it from the beginning.  I loved rap. I used to go looking for drugs on Ninth Avenue and I would go over to midtown or downtown and there would be guys on the corner selling cassettes of their music. I’d give them a buck, two bucks, and that was the beginning of me noticing what was going on in New York at the time.  I was 13. I was so into rap. I’ve always had an eclectic taste in music because growing up, my mom was a young mom and she knew a lot of artists, musicians, around the area. She was more into the punk-rock scene. I got turned on to a lot of college radio. That’s where I would hear Doug E. Fresh, the Sugarhill Gang and that first Run-DMC album.  Wife of Joe Perry, model  Joe was curious. He went into Aaron’s room and asked him about it. Aaron was trying to show him how you break-dance. Aaron got into it as much as a Jewish white kid could. He rolled around on the floor and kicked his feet up.  We had a few reservations about it. Maybe our fans might not like it. But our love for music and trying new things far surpassed that. . . . I heard a direct connection between what they were doing and the blues. All you had to do was have a boombox and some wit and some talent. And a way to express yourself, which is what they were doing on the street corner. Which is what blues was. They’d be on the street in the day or in the juke joint at night. They were singing about living wherever they were living, and to me it was like a direct connection. The only thing that was missing was my guitar.  Joe Perry, I couldn’t really tell, because he was semi-coherent. But I know Tyler wanted to do it. The others — the LI3. The Less Important Three. They’re always against everything. They were against doing “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.”  I don’t remember having any reservations. I definitely had a feeling of being left out.  Honestly, I think we were probably upset about the fact that we weren’t going to be part of the experience. Like, can’t we all go?  Rubin tells Run-DMC about his idea. Russell Simmons is into it. Jam Master Jay, too. Run and D are confused.  I remember them not being enthusiastic.  Rick gives us this yellow notebook pad. He tells us, “Go down to D’s basement, put the needle on the record.” We go down to my basement and put on the record and then you hear “Backstroke lover always hidin’ ’neath the covers” and immediately me and Joe get on the phone and say: “Hell no, this ain’t going to happen. This is hillbilly gibberish, country-bumpkin bulls---.”  We were already playing the Garden. We were gone. I was a superstar. . . . Our energy was on records like “Peter Piper” and all these really urban records.  Run-DMC in New York. (From the Bill Adler archive at the Cornell Hip Hop Collection)  It was becoming more and more obvious that what Run-DMC and what rap music was doing was special. Like, the levee was about to break. I did not want a concocted, white, obvious thing to break the levee. The levee was being broken by urban expression. But I was 22. I was the road manager, the head of the logistical part of this war. My eyes were on my feet. And Rick’s eyes were forward. I respected his vision and creativity. And I don’t remember myself feeling comfortable with trying to knock that recording down.  The thing that was hard to see, as it was happening, was how remarkable it was that these three world-beating individuals — Rick, Russell and Lyor — would work together under the same roof. Each of these guys is a powerhouse. They managed to accomplish a ton. In effect, they accomplished a revolution when they were all working together. It was a working partnership that was probably too volatile to last any length of time.  What do I remember about Aerosmith that day? They were in the bathroom a lot. They were sniffing a lot of coke.  We were pretty jammed. There were very few times where we weren’t.  It was one of the worst days of my life, because I was the first to get a credit card. Run didn’t have a credit card yet. That weekend, Run’s car was in the shop. I went to the airport to rent Run a car. Because him and Jay smoked a lot of weed . . . Joe comes home and he leaves the key in the car and the rental car gets stolen.  Rick got them off the case about the stolen rental car: “Don’t worry about it. Insurance will cover it.” And finally Rick said: “Hey you guys, we’ve got Joe and Steven in here. Let’s do something.” They were very ambivalent about this whole thing. He told us: “I don’t even know if we’re going to get this on the record, on the album. But let’s give it a try.” I know Steven was upset because they didn’t know the lyrics.  What was I going to say? I didn’t want to get into a big fight with the guys. I tried to show them a couple lyrics and they got it but it was clear to me, when I told them what the words were, that they were used to singing it their way and they wanted to sing it that way. When they said “looking at D,” I said, “D? You mean, ‘me’?” They said, “No, D, man.” It was just one after another.  Run and D recorded a version that was a more lackluster version than the one that’s on the record. It was more like going along instead of owning it.  I’m running around, acting like I don’t care because I don’t know what I’m doing and why I’m singing this hillbilly stuff. “Backstroke lover always hidin’ ’neath the covers.” What are we talking about? That’s not poetry from Hollis. We don’t know why we’re using somebody else’s lyrics. We never do. So Jay’s like: “Switch it up. Do your heart into it, man. Switch up like you all do.” That’s how I got “Back-seat lover that’s always undercover.”  Joe Perry was brilliant. He just didn’t say one word during the session. You would ask, “Joe, are you okay?” He would just nod his head up and down. But when it was time to go in there, he walked in there, cigarette hanging from his mouth, winked his eye, they pushed record and history was made. “Joe, are you done?” He’d nod his head up and down and he’d go back and sit down.  I laid down a guitar track and Rick said, “I really think we should have some bass in there.” I said, “I can do it but I don’t have a bass.” There were these teenagers hanging around in the back on the couch and one of them said, “I’ve got a bass at my apartment.” He ran back and he was back in 20 minutes. It was the Beastie Boys.  The main thing I remember from the session was Joe playing guitar and how impressive it was and Run and D doing the calls in front of Steven and Steven doing the ad-libs and the chorus. And I remember just thinking how Run and D didn’t like the lyrics and here’s the guy who wrote the song. I felt like I knew a lot of information that a lot of other people in the room didn’t know and it was making me uncomfortable.  You know how you make a kid sit down and eat his vegetables? “Oh, hell no, you sit down and eat those greens.” And it takes the kid an hour to eat one green at a time? That’s what me and Run were doing.  Here come Tyler and Joe Perry. They did the work. Jay yelled at Run and D and said, “You’re going to look like chumps if you don’t come in and recut it.” Jay got it on a musical level. He’s a DJ. A music lover. . . . So Jay clowns Run and D back into the studio and they do a better job of cutting the vocals and, hallelujah, it’s a great thing. [In 2002, Jam Master Jay was fatally shot at his recording studio. The case was never solved.]  Rick said, “Thanks for coming down.” We had to get back to tour. We said, “Hey man, it was a lot of fun.” We didn’t even know if it was going to come out.  Clockwise from front left: Steven Tyler, D.M.C, Jam Master Jay, Run and Joe Perry. (From the Bill Adler archive at the Cornell Hip Hop Collection)  “Raising Hell” comes out in May, and “Walk This Way” is released as a single in July. The next step is getting it onto MTV. Profile Records hires director Jon Small to make a video. He comes up with the idea of a physical wall separating Tyler and Perry from Run-DMC. As the music gets rolling, Tyler smashes the wall with his microphone stand and the groups come together.  It’s very didactic. In other words, rap is rock, rock is rap.  I went out looking for a location and found what I needed in Union City, New Jersey. An old, closed-down theater. We announced on the radio that Aerosmith was going to be at the theater and I needed an audience. The funny thing is, when I got there in the morning, all that were outside were tons of black kids. And I needed it to be an Aerosmith concert. So I was walking around and I saw all these white kids in their cars. They were scared to get out. Rap wasn’t big then. It was never on TV. So with a bunch of assistants I knocked on the windows of the cars — most of them were girls — and told them to go to the backstage door. There were probably about 2,000 kids.  Small was a genius. It was his idea to build that set and put the wall up. And he said, “I’ll saw a hole in the wall and you just hit that spot.” If you watch the video, the way I go up and f---ing try to smash and knock a hole through the wall, it didn’t budge. Whoever was supposed to saw it didn’t really saw all the way through. It just about ripped every muscle in my back out.  Now Profile has to get MTV to play the video. In 1986, the video music network is key to scoring a hit. But its playlist is heavy on Mr. Mister and Lionel Richie. MTV doesn’t do hip-hop.  There was never, ever any racial attitude. Any conversations would be about the format. It doesn’t mean you don’t play Sly and the Family Stone and you don’t play Jimi Hendrix. But you play rock. That’s not racial — that’s a format. It had nothing to do with people’s color.  MTV, talent and acquisition head  You can find any goddamn excuse for it, but it was industry-wide racism. To keep it all separated. They wanted a white channel. They didn’t want to muddy it up with black music.  But this was 1986. That brouhaha was over. Black music was on MTV. We were already playing Janet Jackson. And Shalamar.  I didn’t know what rap music was. A rap was something you did when you sat around and smoked weed with your friends.  Rap music was emerging and had not yet reached mainstream. Everybody thought it could. But how do you bridge rap music into the existing rock music, which dominated at the time?  We’d go watch the videos on a Monday and talk about it on a Tuesday. But this one came in special. We knew it was by these guys, these kids downtown, who were starting to build a name for themselves in hip-hop. But at the beginning, when you first saw that video, you don’t know it was going to be a game-changer. It wasn’t like we were waiting for the next Run-DMC record. I don’t think I knew Run-DMC.  That video, I still think it’s hysterical. With Steve Tyler, that face of his when he goes straight through that wall. It was brilliant.  When I saw black guys with black shirts on and the funny hats, I got it. Then they crashed through the wall with Aerosmith. I thought it was pretty cool.  The new “Walk” also revolutionizes rock radio. WBCN, Boston’s hugely influential rock station, decides to make “Walk This Way” its first rap song. It rises to No. 4 on the Billboard 100 — the first time Run-DMC lands on the mainstream charts.  We were all threatened by it, but at the same time you couldn’t help but sing along to it. It was pretty brilliant. Everybody’s thinking, “Why didn’t I think of that?”  We didn’t care if the artists were black or white. We were not a rap station. What “Walk This Way” did is it opened up the possibilities for rock bands to incorporate rap music into their songs. Run-DMC defined it.  I think it really dawned on us when we went to Europe and we started doing interviews and we realized some people had never heard of Aerosmith until that song came out.  I’m not crazy about it. . . . It was more what it represented. The breakthrough of rap coming together with rock-and-roll. It put them on the map and it resurrected us. It just shows you the power of one song.  We did not perform “Walk This Way” in 1986 while it was exploding. It was a separate thing in my mind. I was happy about “My Adidas,” about “Peter Piper.” I got my Adidas sneaker, made out of pure gold, and performed every song on the album other than “Walk This Way.” Then I hear this exploding on a rock station in Boston and I’m seeing sales that are taking it well over 1.5 million. The next time out, I started to play it.  Darryl “DMC” McDaniels on May 13 in New York (Roger Kisby/For The Washington Post)  Russell Simmons on May 16 in Culver City, Calif. (G L Askew II/For The Washington Post)  I hated the record. In fact, I would always leave the arena or the performance when they did “Walk This Way.”  That song gave Aerosmith hope. They were going down for a third time, and that song was where they went, “Ah, Kalodner was right.” And then they listened to him. For three solid albums. “Permanent Vacation,” “Pump” and “Get a Grip.” And that song was part of what gave Steven the incentive to get sober. We did an intervention with him and we had to get him in the morning, before the methadone clinic opened. When he was most clear. The only thing that could get him to the office was that he was excited about what that song was doing. He knew there was hope. He thought he was coming in to do an interview with the BBC to talk about “Walk This Way.” He came and saw us and said, “What the f--- is this?”  It’s too much to say it saved the band, but it gave it a shot in the arm that nothing else would have.  Steven Tyler this year in Istanbul. (Zack Whitford)  Joe Perry on May 8 in Los Angeles. (Zack Whitford /For The Washington Post)  Think about it. “Walk This Way.” “Yo! MTV Raps” came later. “In Living Color” after “Yo!” Arsenio after that. What I remember about “Walk This Way” is going to my cousin’s wedding that summer and it got played at the wedding. There’s nothing more mainstream than being on a wedding playlist. Right next to “Celebration.”  Run-DMC made it possible for all the majors to see that rap music and hip-hop was album-oriented music and rap artists were rock stars, really. Run-DMC was the complete sacrifice for anything that was successful after 1986. This is why we need to acknowledge and always take care of them. . . . Run-DMC should be as revered as Aerosmith and have all the spoils. They were the sacrifice for the guys.  Correction: An earlier version of this article misidentified Grandmaster Flash. His given name was Joseph Saddler.
Thirty years ago, the rap trio from Queens and veteran rockers from Boston came together to make history.