On a summer day in August 1993, producer Rick Rubin presided over a public gathering of music’s best and brightest in Los Angeles. A funeral was being held that day, but not for anyone in Rubin’s circle. Not even for a person at all, but for a word. Rick Rubin was holding a funeral for the word “def,” notably as part of the record label he co-founded, Def Jam Recordings.
Rubin started Def Jam initially in his NYU dorm around 1983, at just 21 years old. But he didn’t have any real experience in the music industry. So when he was introduced to Russell Simmons, who was five years older and managing Run-DMC, Rubin wanted to bring him on. The two officially co-founded Def Jam in 1984, and LL Cool J’s “I Need a Beat” would be their first official release.
Rick Rubin and the Death of Def
From there, Def Jam became a crucial player in the New York hip-hop scene. Rubin worked to bring the Beastie Boys out of their punk shell and eventually signed Public Enemy. But Rubin wasn’t consistent with the genres he worked in, producing everything from the Beasties to Aerosmith, The Cult, and Slayer. 1988 signaled a shift within Def Jam, as Rubin and Simmons parted ways.
Rick Rubin moved to L.A. and started Def American Recordings, while Russell Simmons stayed in New York and continued Def Jam. Def American operated for five years, until Rubin became tired of the name.
At that point, “def” had been added to the Webster’s Dictionary, widely associated with “cool” and “hip.” This must have seemed like a death sentence to Rick Rubin. And so, inspired by the symbolic “Death of the Hippie” funeral in 1967, Rubin staged his own “Death of Def.”
“When ‘def’ went from street lingo to mainstream, it defeated its purpose,” Rick Rubin told the New York Times in 2007. In the summer of 1993, he sought to give the word its final send-off. By becoming associated with “cool,” the word had ceased to be actually “cool.”
Rubin described the fake funeral as a “ceremony of honored entombment.” But that wasn’t just a fancy way to say “putting this word to bed forever.” Rubin bought a plot in the Hollywood Memorial Park Cemetery and installed a black granite slab headstone to mark the spot. Engraved with the word “DEF,” in all caps, below that reads “Laid to rest August 27, 1993.”
It’s a surprisingly loving tribute to a slang word that went too mainstream. But Rick Rubin had held onto it for years. Obviously, it held some importance. While the fake funeral may have looked like an elaborate stunt or a joke, there also seemed to be real sentiment behind it.
This becomes obvious when you learn that the Reverend Al Sharpton even officiated the funeral
“Now the bang is out of def,” said Rev Al Sharpton to the gathered crowd of nearly 500 mourners. “It lost its exclusivity to the in, defiant crowd. It died of terminal acceptance.” He then added, “When we bury ‘def,’ we bury the urge to conform.”
The elaborate funeral also included a decorated casket filled with memorabilia, donated by artists in attendance. After the eulogy, the casket was paraded in a horse-drawn hearse, accompanied by a six-piece brass band.
Naturally, they played “Amazing Grace” and “When the Saints Go Marching In”. Possibly, a reference to a traditional New Orleans funeral procession. After, nearly 2,000 mourners came together for a repast at Shatto 39 Lanes. Nothing like 10 frames and a beer pitcher to drown your sorrows.
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