Asked about disappointments in the studio, he mentions a veteran British superstar whose band continues to fill stadiums around the world.

Rubin knew the Englishman was used to calling the shots, and he only agreed to produce the solo album after being assured that the artist would keep writing until he and Rubin agreed they had enough good songs for an album.

Early in the process, however, the singer played a song for Rubin and waited for a reaction. Rubin said he liked it, but thought the rocker could do better.

"Well, his face fell," Rubin recalls. "It was probably the first time someone criticized his work in 30 years. I could tell at that point it was going to be an ego-driven project, not a music-driven project."

When asked why he just didn't walk away, Rubin replies, "I approach every record as a fan and I don't give up. Each step of the way, I ask myself, 'Am I satisfied with what I'm hearing?' If not, I'm still a fan. I'm just not satisfied."

And who was that star?

Ever the diplomat, Rubin says with a teasing smile, "Oh, I can't tell you that."

Breaking in

Want to be a record producer? Frederick Jay Rubin has one piece of advice: Just do it.

"Go to a small club tonight, and if there is a band you like, figure out a way to make a recording with them — it's easier than you think," he says, sitting in his backyard. "There are thousands of bands just waiting for someone to ask them to make a record."

Rubin speaks with confidence because he started his own career 22 years ago by making a recording in his New York University dorm room. The only child of an upper-middle-class Long Island family, the pre-law student grew up on hard rock and punk, loving no band more than AC/DC. By the time he got to college, however, hip-hop was the hot new thing in New York clubs, and he was fascinated by it.

Rubin noticed rap records didn't have the energy or excitement of the rap he heard in downtown clubs because the music on the records was supplied by musicians instead of "scratching," the club DJ practice of mixing and matching the sounds of actual recordings. Rubin began using "scratching" and other turntable wizardry rather than live musicians.

After gaining attention around New York City with a rap recording he made in his dorm, Rubin teamed with Russell Simmons, manager of the rap group Run-DMC, to form Def Jam Records, the Motown of hip-hop.

At Def Jam, Rubin worked with LL Cool J and the Beastie Boys, whose "Licensed to Ill" album in 1986 was a musical and sociological bombshell that reflected Rubin's love of hard rock and rap. The album sold an estimated 9 million in the U.S. alone, but Rubin swears he never set out to make a "hit."

"I don't believe anyone is good at trying to figure out what will be a hit," says Rubin, who left Def Jam in 1988 to start his own label — now called American Recordings and distributed by Warner Music Group — in Los Angeles. "The best thing you can do is reach for something that excites you and the artist.