🎸 Mullet Malone: The Silent Cowboy Who Made 90s Country Go Viral
He doesn’t say a word, but somehow says everything. Mullet Malone’s silent 90s-country reels have turned mud, beer, and a mullet into an online movement. CommonX dives into the viral cowboy who proves authenticity never went out of style.
Mullet Malone standing beside his side-by-side ATV stuck in the mud, capturing his trademark 90s country humor and laid-back attitude.
There’s a new outlaw riding across social media—and he doesn’t say a word. No promos, no captions begging for follows. Just a mullet, a cold beer, chillin’ in the shop, and the twang of 90s country rolling through your feed. Somehow, that’s all it takes for Mullet Malone to pull millions of views and a community of fans who feel like they already know the guy. In a world that overshares everything, Malone has turned under-sharing into an art form. His reels and shorts are simple POV clips with just enough on-screen text to make you spit out your drink laughing. The punchline isn’t delivered—it’s implied. That’s the genius: he’s letting the viewer do half the work, and that makes every video feel personal.
The Malone Effect
He’s not parodying 90s country—he’s honoring it. The soundtrack swings between Brooks & Dunn, Travis Tritt, Alan Jackson, and the kind of honky-tonk anthems that used to rattle truck speakers across backroads before Spotify existed. You don’t have to be from the sticks to get it; you just have to remember when music videos had storylines and jeans had actual dirt on them. Malone’s silence is a flex. While everyone else is shouting for attention, he just hits record, cracks a beer, and lets nostalgia do the talking. His followers eat it up because it’s not curated—it’s felt. He’s the embodiment of what CommonX has been saying since day one: authenticity still wins. The Gen-X humor, the shrug-at-life energy, the “I’ll be who I am” vibe—it’s all right there in that camera roll.
The CommonX Connection
We talk a lot on the show about reclaiming what’s real. Mullet Malone is doing that with nothing but timing and a sense of humor. He’s not just viral; he’s a mirror for everyone who misses when life wasn’t filtered through algorithms. In a world that never shuts up, sometimes silence—with the right soundtrack—says everything.
Keep the Vibe Alive
If you dig stories like this, check out more on The CommonX Podcast or become a sponsor to help keep independent voices alive:
👉 Sponsor the CommonX Podcast | On-Air Advertising & Brand Partnerships — Common-X Podcast
This CommonX feature is brought to you by Summit Racing, Alpinestars, and Heavy Duty Ramps — brands built for real horsepower and hard work. Click the brand images below for CommonX Discounts
Summit Racing logo and performance automotive imagery representing CommonX partner Summit Racing, supporting the Mullet Malone feature and Gen-X gearhead culture.
Alpinestars logo representing CommonX partner Alpinestars — a leading brand in motorsports and action-sports performance gear.
Heavy Duty Ramps logo representing CommonX partner Heavy Duty Ramps — makers of professional-grade loading ramps and equipment trusted by builders, riders, and racers.
🎸 “The Sound of Clarity: Johnny Ceravolo’s Road from Reverb to Redemption”
From 80s stages to Warner Brothers studios, from recovery to comedy, Johnny Ceravolo has lived every chord of reinvention. CommonX celebrates his story of clarity and creation.
Johnny Ceravolo and his band playing live.
🎸 “The Sound of Clarity: Johnny Ceravolo’s Road from Reverb to Redemption”
(By Ian Primmer Co-host, of CommonX)
Some people chase fame. Others chase peace. Johnny Ceravolo chased both — and in doing so, found clarity that most people spend a lifetime looking for. When Johnny talks about his life, he doesn’t sound like a rock star. He sounds like someone who survived it. “I got sober in 2006,” he says, almost matter-of-factly. But behind those words is a lifetime of noise — the kind that comes from chasing everything except yourself.
In 2007, fresh in recovery, Johnny got the call of a lifetime — to join the 80s hitmakers When In Rome, best known for “The Promise.” For a decade, he toured and recorded with them, playing the songs that once defined an era. The lights, the travel, the soundchecks — it was the dream. But it was also the test. Sobriety gave Johnny a new relationship with the music — one rooted in appreciation rather than escape. He began to see the songs not as a stage for chaos, but as a space for clarity and connection.
That shift — from chasing the noise to truly hearing it — became the throughline of his creative life.
🎛️ The Engineer’s Ear
After a decade on the road, Johnny traded tour buses for mixing boards. He joined Warner Brothers as an audio engineer, bringing his musician’s ear to the screen. He laughs when you ask him what he’s worked on. “The most popular thing is Ted Lasso,” he says, almost like he’s talking about someone else’s success. But the truth is, his fingerprints are on soundtracks and scenes that millions of people have felt without even realizing who helped make them sound right. Johnny’s career at Warner Brothers reflects both gratitude and grit. He’s the kind of guy who’ll tell you luck played a part — but the truth is, it’s his work ethic that built the foundation. Years behind the console taught him how to listen again — to the mix, to the people around him, and to himself. That discipline — the kind that comes from falling and rebuilding — led him to a new kind of stage.
Johnny playing live on stage.
🎤 The Next Chapter: Stand-Up and Sobriety
Most people would’ve stopped there — rock band, big studio, Hollywood credits. But Johnny? He’s still evolving.
A year ago, he stepped into a new arena: stand-up comedy.
Comedy, at its core, isn’t that different from music. It’s timing, tone, rhythm, and truth. It’s honesty with a punchline.
Johnny’s version of comedy doesn’t hide behind characters or bravado — it’s vulnerability in motion. He’s preparing to film his own self-produced comedy special later this year, an achievement that mirrors his entire journey: self-built, self-aware, self-driven. For Johnny, everything else — the music, the comedy, the creativity — all branches out from one root: his sobriety.
It’s the core that anchors every project, every performance, every day. That focus hits like a lyric, because what Johnny found through recovery wasn’t just health — it was purpose.
🧭 Science Over Stigma
Johnny started his sobriety in AA, but after a few years, his perspective evolved. “I left to pursue sobriety based on science and logic,” he says. It’s not a rejection of what helped him early on — it’s an evolution. He’s now dedicated to helping others approach recovery with rationality, compassion, and honesty — no guilt, no judgment, no mysticism. That’s the real thread through all his art — truth without pretense. Music, engineering, comedy — they’re not separate chapters. They’re all part of the same album.
💬 The Heart of a Gen-Xer
If you didn’t know better, you’d think Johnny Ceravolo was a fictional character — a guy who lived three different lives but never lost himself in any of them. But he’s real — and that’s exactly why his story fits right at home on CommonX. He’s the kind of artist Gen-X was built on: humble, resilient, endlessly reinventing. Not chasing fame — just chasing meaning. He’s living proof that it’s never too late to find a new rhythm. That even after decades in the industry, the most powerful sound you can make… is clarity.
Johnny Ceravolo: From Reverb to Redemption airs soon on CommonX
🧠 Excerpt
From 80s stages to Warner Brothers studios, from recovery to comedy, Jonny Ceravolo has lived every chord of reinvention. CommonX celebrates his story of clarity and creation.
🏷️ Tags
CommonX Podcast • Johnny Ceravolo • Sobriety • Gen X • When In Rome • Ted Lasso • Stand-Up Comedy • Recovery Journey • Music & Culture • Curb Fail Productions • CommonX Originals
📂 Categories
The X-Files
Music & Culture
CommonX Originals
Resilience & Recovery
🎸 From the Music & Culture Cluster
“The Sound of Defiance – How Sub Pop Saved a Generation”
→ Place early in the article, after you mention When In Rome or his touring background.“Like the early Sub Pop bands that built the Seattle sound, Johnny’s story reminds us that the best music isn’t made for fame — it’s made for survival.”
(link to the Sub Pop/Concrete Waves & Power Chords article)
🎸 Top 10 Underrated Grunge Tracks You Forgot You Loved (CommonX Edition)
CommonX digs deep into the Seattle sound — the forgotten grunge tracks that still roar beneath the surface. Crank it, feel it, and remember why it mattered.
Top 10 Underrated Grunge Tracks we forgot we loved. Brought to you by Skull Candy and CommonX.
By CommonX
Before playlists and polished pop, we had distortion, sweat, and heartache echoing from basements and bar stages. Grunge wasn’t a sound — it was a generation finally saying, “We’re not okay, and that’s okay.”
Everyone remembers Nirvana and Pearl Jam, but the underground had deeper veins — songs that hit just as hard and spoke louder in the quiet moments between chaos.
So fire up the SONOS, close your eyes, and fall back into the feedback. Here are the 10 underrated grunge anthems that still deserve to shake your soul.
⚡ 10. Screaming Trees – “Nearly Lost You” (1992)
That voice. That fuzz. That groove. The soundtrack to smoky nights and restless hearts — forever under-appreciated.
🎤 9. Mother Love Bone – “Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns” (1990)
Where it all began. Before Pearl Jam, there was MLB — poetic, tragic, and pure Seattle soul.
🔥 8. Mudhoney – “Touch Me I’m Sick” (1988)
The filthy riff that started it all. Raw, snotty, and brilliant — the sound that gave Sub Pop its swagger.
🎧 7. Temple of the Dog – “Say Hello 2 Heaven” (1991)
Chris Cornell’s voice in its purest form — grief turned into grace. A tribute that became a movement.
🌀 6. L7 – “Pretend We’re Dead” (1992)
Feminist fury meets killer hooks. L7 proved you didn’t need to smile to melt faces.
💔 5. Candlebox – “You” (1993)
Melodic, emotional, and criminally underrated. Candlebox gave grunge a pulse that could actually break hearts.
⚙️ 4. The Melvins – “Hooch” (1993)
Heavy, sludgy, hypnotic. The godfathers of doom who inspired Nirvana’s heaviest moments.
🧠 3. Soundgarden – “Room a Thousand Years Wide” (1991)
Buried behind the hits lies one of their best riffs. Cornell and Thayil made darkness sound divine.
🚀 2. Alice in Chains – “Nutshell” (1994)
If you ever doubted grunge had poetry, listen again. Layne’s voice still echoes in every lonely apartment at 2 a.m.
🦇 1. Stone Temple Pilots – “Silvergun Superman” (1994)
Overshadowed by hits like “Plush,” this deep cut is pure STP swagger — bassline grooves, velvet vocals, and a solo that burns slow.
🎧 Honorable Mentions
Nirvana – “Aneurysm” | Pearl Jam – “Release” | Hole – “Malibu” | Bush – “Cold Contagious”
🧠 Excerpt
CommonX digs deep into the Seattle sound — the forgotten grunge tracks that still roar beneath the surface. Crank it, feel it, and remember why it mattered.
written by Ian Primmer
Top 10 Shredders of All Time (CommonX Edition)By CommonX
From Van Halen to Vai, CommonX salutes the ten who turned noise into art and rebellion into rhythm. Crank it up — feedback is freedom.
🎸 Top 10 Shredders of All Time (CommonX Edition)
By CommonX
Before playlists and plug-ins, there were six strings, blood on the frets, and neighbors pounding on the wall. For Gen X, guitar heroes were gods — and distortion was scripture. So grab your SONOS, crank it until the drywall shakes, and salute the riff kings who taught us that feedback is freedom.
Sonos Logo partnered with CommonX
⚡ 1. Eddie Van Halen – The Architect of Awe
Two-hand tapping, harmonic squeals, and tone so warm it could melt steel. “Eruption” changed everything; every kid with a guitar chased that lightning ever since.
🎸 2. Jimi Hendrix – The Cosmic Trailblazer
He made the Stratocaster cry, laugh, and set the sky on fire. “Voodoo Child” wasn’t a song — it was a ritual.
⚡ 3. Randy Rhoads – The Classical Firestorm
Ozzy’s prodigy fused classical precision with metal fury. Every solo was a master class in melody and madness.
🎩 4. Slash – The Soul in the Smoke
Top hat, Les Paul, cigarette — instant icon. His tone drips blues and attitude; “Sweet Child O’ Mine” is eternal youth in riff form.
🎵 5. Stevie Ray Vaughan – The Texas Hurricane
Pure feel. No tricks, no filters — just emotion pouring through Fender strings. When SRV bent a note, you felt it in your bones.
⚙️ 6. Tony Iommi – The Godfather of Heavy
Fingertip injury? No problem. He invented heavy metal instead. Sabbath’s riffs are the bedrock of every down-tuned dream that followed.
⚡ 7. Kirk Hammett – The Metal Surgeon
Precision meets chaos. The wah-wah wizard of Metallica built solos that slice through stadium air like jet engines.
⚡ 8. Angus Young – The Eternal Rebel
School uniform, duck-walk, Gibson SG — pure electricity. “Back in Black” and “Highway to Hell” still sound like rebellion bottled.
🔥 9. Dimebag Darrell – The Southern Thunderstorm
Groove, grit, and guts. His Pantera riffs came with tire smoke and whiskey breath — heavy metal with a grin.
🚀 10. Steve Vai – The Alien Virtuoso
Flawless technique and fearless imagination. Vai turned shred into symphony — proof that technical mastery can still have soul.
🎧 Honorable Mentions
Joe Satriani, Nuno Bettencourt, Prince, Nancy Wilson, and Joan Jett — the undercurrent that keeps the six-string alive.
“The Soundtrack Still Matters (SONOS Edition)”
Gen X didn’t outgrow music — we refined how we hear it. CommonX and SONOS celebrate the return of real sound, where clarity meets rebellion and the soundtrack still matters.
There was a time when every moment had its own soundtrack.
A first kiss in a friend’s car to the hum of a worn cassette. A late-night skate run with Smells Like Teen Spirit echoing off the streetlights. A broken-hearted walk home with your Discman skipping on track eight.
Music didn’t just play in the background — it defined who we were. Back then, we lived for mixtapes. The sound was fuzzy, imperfect, sometimes barely holding together — but it was ours. Every hiss, every crackle, every dropout told a story. You didn’t swipe through songs, you committed to them. You let the music breathe.
And maybe that’s what we’ve lost in the streaming age — the texture, the ritual, the pause between tracks that reminded you something real was coming next. But here’s the truth: the sound never died. It just evolved.
From Garage Speakers to SONOS Clarity
We grew up worshipping distortion — basement bands, blown-out speakers, the hum of a dying amp before the chorus dropped. Now, we’re rediscovering what sound can really do when it’s given room to move. That’s where SONOS comes in — the next evolution of that same energy we grew up with. It’s not about perfection — it’s about presence.
“We grew up on grit. SONOS gives it back with grace.”
With SONOS, you don’t just hear the song — you feel it. The air shifts, the bass hums, and the room becomes part of the music again. It’s what happens when design meets soul. From vinyl to streaming, from garage walls to living rooms that shake with nostalgia, SONOS captures the essence of how we used to listen — loud, unfiltered, and alive.
Every CommonX episode we drop, every Side-B track we revisit, deserves that kind of sound — not background noise, but an experience.
Gen X Grew Up, But the Music Didn’t
We traded our Walkmans for Wi-Fi, but the volume never came down. We just wanted a system that respected the music the way we do — not compressed, not disposable, not background noise. That’s what makes the SONOS ecosystem the grown-up version of rebellion: seamless, modern, but still built around sound that moves you. It’s what happens when the mixtape kids grow up, but the passion stays the same.
“We were raised on feedback and rebellion — now we crave fidelity and fire.”
Because we still want that moment — the one where you stop mid-conversation, tilt your head, and say:
“Man, listen to that.”
SONOS didn’t just build a speaker — they built a bridge between who we were and who we became. The soundtrack still matters. It always did. And now, it sounds better than ever.
🎵 Hear your soundtrack the way Gen X meant it to sound.
Shop SONOS
written by Ian Primmer
SONOS Multi Room quality Surround Sound
Follow Ian Primmer GENXDAD on Tiktok, and get some SONOS gear for high quality sound on the SONO links above.
Concrete Waves and Power Chords
When rebellion echoed through cracked pavement and feedback screamed from garage amps, a generation found its voice. CommonX looks back at the days of Sub Pop, Tony Hawk, and the concrete wave that shaped us — when skateboards were freedom, distortion was therapy, and the noise was the message.
Sub Pop, Tony Hawk — still inspiring the world today
Concrete Waves and Power Chords
By Ian Primmer - Cohost, CommonX
There was a time when rebellion didn’t come from a phone screen — it came from the sound of polyurethane wheels chewing through cracked concrete and a power chord screaming through a Peavey amp. The soundtrack of the 90s wasn’t choreographed or corporate. It was raw, loud, and gloriously unrefined — born from garages, burned-out warehouses, and a record label in Seattle that changed everything: Sub Pop. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and spray paint — the kind that stuck to your lungs and your memory. Every scraped knee and every snapped string meant something. You didn’t scroll for inspiration — you created it, one crash and one chord at a time. Back then, nobody was talking about going viral. You earned your audience by waking the neighborhood. You didn’t care who was listening — you cared that someone heard you. And that sound — that clash of motion and music — was everything. It was how Gen X spoke when the world wasn’t listening.
Author Ian Primmer used to wake the neighborhood with a rented Drum Set from DJ’s music in Port Orchard, WA. (Not Ian)
The Sound of Defiance
We didn’t just listen to music — we inhaled it. Those riffs and feedback loops were oxygen for every kid who didn’t fit the mold, who couldn’t afford preppy clothes or polished dreams. The noise was the message. Every distortion pedal was an act of defiance. Every garage was a stage. Every mosh pit was a therapy session no one talked about. Bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden, and Mudhoney didn’t just write songs — they wrote escape routes. They gave permission to feel broken, to question authority, to scream without explanation and then came the others: Tool with their precision chaos, Green Day with that punk edge that made you want to quit your job and start a band, Pearl Jam turning stadiums into group therapy sessions.
It wasn’t about fame — it was about the feeling. That hum of bass that hit your ribs harder than any lecture ever could. That echo of rebellion that made you believe — for just a few minutes — that the system couldn’t touch you. You didn’t need a producer or a million followers. You just needed a voice and the guts to use it. That’s what defined us. That’s what set Gen X apart. We were the first generation to realize that corporate America couldn’t commodify honesty forever.
The Streets Were Our Stage
Our culture didn’t come pre-packaged — we made it. Every cracked ramp, every sticker-bombed deck, every photocopied show flyer — that was our social media. Tony Hawk was the god we all prayed to, but our church was concrete, and our hymns came from cheap guitars turned all the way up. We didn’t talk about mental health. We lived it — through sound, motion, and scraped-up skin. Music and skateboarding weren’t hobbies; they were survival tactics for a generation that refused to sit still or shut up. When you were flying down a hill at midnight with Silverchair in your headphones and no helmet, that was freedom. It was reckless, stupid, beautiful — and it was ours. And right there in the mix — between the smell of asphalt and the static buzz of a cheap amp — was Tony Hawk. Not just a skater, but a spirit guide for every kid who believed a parking lot could be a playground and a bruise was just proof you tried. Hawk wasn’t fame; he was freedom on four wheels, soaring higher than the world said possible.
The ramps were our art galleries, our tricks our brushstrokes. And when the world didn’t understand it, we made them — one spray-painted tag at a time. Every halfpipe had a story written in Krylon. Every wall, every deck, every dingy garage door carried the mark of our generation’s graffiti gospel: make noise, make color, make something real.
Tony Hawk in 1986 tearing it up and inspiring his generation of misfits to go all out!
Sub Pop: The Label That Let Us Live Loud
Before Sub Pop, major labels told artists what to sound like. After Sub Pop, the world had to listen. Bruce Pavitt and Jonathan Poneman didn’t set out to start a revolution — they just wanted to bottle the sound of Seattle’s underbelly. But what they created was the most authentic record label of the modern age: one that ran on coffee, chaos, and community. Sub Pop gave the world a front-row seat to real. They didn’t chase trends — they documented truth. They didn’t sign acts for looks — they signed them for feel. Their offices were cluttered, their contracts were basic, their gear was borrowed — but their legacy was nuclear.
They found kids with four-track recorders and turned them into legends. They gave the outcasts a label, the misfits a megaphone, and the city of Seattle a soul.
It was never about selling records — it was about capturing lightning before the corporations bottled the thunder. Sub Pop’s logo became a badge of honor — a stamp that said, “This isn’t for everyone.” And that was the point. When Bleach dropped, when Superfuzz Bigmuff hit, when Sliver rattled through speakers across the country — you could feel the shift. The label wasn’t polished; it was powerful. It didn’t create a genre; it created a generation. And when the majors came calling, when MTV wanted a piece, when every mall brand started selling flannel — Sub Pop stayed Sub Pop. Still underground. Still imperfect. Still loud. They didn’t just distribute music. They distributed freedom.
CommonX and the Echo of the Underground
Fast-forward a few decades, and that DIY spirit’s still alive. You hear it every week when the mics fire up on CommonX. It’s not scripted, it’s not perfect — it’s raw talk from real people. Just like those garage bands, we’re making noise that matters. We might not be slinging guitars, but we’re still shredding through the same noise — the censorship, the fake trends, the endless filters. And we’re still powered by the same drive that once made a kid pick up a skateboard or a Stratocaster: the need to be heard. Because the truth is, the world doesn’t make rebels anymore. It makes algorithms. But for those of us who remember, we still feel it — that spark of distortion that said “don’t just consume — create.” Concrete waves. Power chords.
The pulse of a generation that never stopped moving forward — even when the world told us to grow up.
Graffiti-style CommonX logo on a cracked concrete wall — symbolizing the 90s Sub Pop spirit, Tony Hawk rebellion, and the raw Gen X soundtrack.
From the Underground to the Airwaves
The underground didn’t die — it just changed frequencies. It traded distortion pedals for microphones, basement shows for streaming platforms, and flyers on telephone poles for algorithms and hashtags. But the energy? The pulse? That raw, unfiltered truth? It’s still here. It lives in CommonX. Every episode, every post, every conversation we throw into the world carries that same Sub Pop DNA — the defiance of the overproduced, the rejection of the sanitized, the celebration of real.
We don’t have an A&R rep; we have a mission. To amplify voices that deserve to be heard. To talk about what others scroll past.
To cut through the digital noise with the same authenticity that once made a garage in Seattle sound like the center of the universe. CommonX was never built to trend — it was built to resonate. We don’t chase algorithms; we chase connection.
We don’t clean up the rough edges; we lean into them, because that’s where the soul lives. Like Sub Pop’s bands, we’re a mixed bag of thinkers, builders, and rebels — misfits who somehow found a frequency that makes sense together. We’re not mainstream. We’re main vein — the current running underneath all the noise. And just like that first wave of Seattle sound, we’re not here to fit in. We’re here to remind people what it feels like when something real hits — when art is dangerous again, when truth shakes walls, when you turn it up and say, “Yeah… that’s us.”
So maybe we don’t have a mosh pit anymore. Maybe we’ve swapped guitars for microphones and stages for studios. But the energy’s the same. The rebellion’s still alive. And the noise? It’s only getting louder. CommonX isn’t a podcast — it’s a movement. An analog heart beating in a digital world. A continuation of the underground spirit that refuses to fade out quietly. Because as long as there’s concrete to skate, distortion to crank, and stories to tell — Gen X will always have a sound.
Before There Were Streams, There Were Grooves
From the underground to the airwaves, CommonX is spinning its own record — literally. Generation X’s voice of reason and rebellion just dropped on VYNL, celebrating the raw sound, real talk, and analog soul that built a movement. Crackle the dust off your turntable and cue the conversation — because the X is officially on wax.
Long before podcasts filled our earbuds, there was the turntable — a ritual of sound, smell, and touch. You didn’t click play, you lowered the needle. CommonX was born from that Gen-X era — a world where mixtapes, record sleeves, and late-night radio were sacred. So maybe it’s only natural that the conversation that started in digital form now spins back to where it all began: vinyl.
The Vinyl Sessions – A CommonX Concept
The idea is simple but beautifully rebellious — press CommonX onto wax. Not as a gimmick, but as an artifact: a time capsule of the best moments, guests, and insights from Season One. Imagine Side A: Ivan Doroschuk, Sid Griffin, Cory White, Rudy Sarzo — the musical DNA of our generation. Side B: The thinkers and cultural catalysts — Gerald Horne, Meemaws, Isaac, William Becker — the voices that turned talk into truth. Each track hand-picked, mastered for warmth and grit, with the crackle that digital will never capture.
Rare Vinyl Meets Victrola and Rare Vinyl
With partners like Rare Vinyl and Victrola, the move makes sense. Rare Vinyl gives CommonX a collector’s home — a place for limited-press runs, numbered editions, and liner notes worth reading twice. Victrola connects the dots between nostalgia and now, offering turntables that look vintage but stream modern. Together, they help CommonX bridge two worlds — the analog soul of Gen-X and the digital pulse of today.
Why Vinyl?
Because Gen-X has always been about authenticity. We’re the generation that taped songs off the radio, that flipped the cassette with a pencil, that made playlists before the algorithm existed. Vinyl isn’t just retro — it’s rebellion against disposable culture.
And CommonX on vinyl is more than a record — it’s a statement:
“Before podcasts streamed, we spun records. CommonX brings it back — one groove at a time.”
The Collectible Factor
Each pressing would come with:
A custom CommonX gatefold cover, with photography and design inspired by 90s MTV Unplugged.
Liner notes written by Jared & Ian, telling the behind-the-mic story.
A QR code linking to the full digital archive and bonus “Behind the Mic” episode.
Optional autographed, numbered collector’s editions — the first podcast ever archived like a classic album.
The Next Spin
What started as a thought is now a movement.
CommonX has always been about conversation — the kind that leaves an imprint.
And what better way to make it permanent than vinyl?
If streaming is the fast lane, vinyl is the scenic route. And Gen-X has always preferred the long drive.
#CommonXPodcast #TheXFiles #GenX #VinylRevival #PodcastOnWax #RareVinyl #Victrola #GenXCulture #PodcastRevolution
The Stroke — What It Takes to Build Something Real
In 1981, Billy Squier dropped The Stroke — a track so sharp and ironic that half the world missed the joke. On the surface, it sounded like a swaggering rock anthem. Underneath? It was a middle finger to the music industry’s obsession with fame, ego, and transactional love.
Fast-forward forty-plus years, and it’s still the same song — only the instruments changed. Likes, views, algorithms… that’s the new Stroke. Everybody’s working it, talking it, streaming it, chasing it. But few are still feeling it.
At CommonX, we’re trying to change that.
By Ian Primmer Co-host, CommonX
Intro: The Grind Behind the Glory
In 1981, Billy Squier dropped The Stroke — a track so sharp and ironic that half the world missed the joke. On the surface, it sounded like a swaggering rock anthem. Underneath? It was a middle finger to the music industry’s obsession with fame, ego, and transactional love.
Fast-forward forty-plus years, and it’s still the same song — only the instruments changed. Likes, views, algorithms… that’s the new Stroke. Everybody’s working it, talking it, streaming it, chasing it. But few are still feeling it.
At CommonX, we’re trying to change that.
The CommonX Connection
Building this thing — this crazy media dream — feels a lot like that lyric: “Put your right hand out, give a firm handshake.” Every collaboration, every guest, every article, every episode… it’s the grind. It’s the stroke.
We’ve been lucky enough to shake hands with legends: Richard Karn, Rudy Sarzo, Ivan Doroschuk, Sid Griffin, Dr. Gerald Horne — and every single one of them reminded us of the same truth: success only lasts if you mean it.
Billy Squier wasn’t mocking ambition. He was warning us: don’t let the performance replace the purpose.
Hustle, Humility, and the New Stroke
“Making it” in 2025 isn’t fame — it’s consistency. It’s the grind, the late nights, and the vision to keep going. The stroke never left — it just went digital.
And while the industry still loves its quick hits and viral strokes, there’s a quiet revolution happening underneath it. It’s people like us — the builders, the storytellers, the Gen-Xers who know how to balance grit with gratitude. We’re not chasing the algorithm. We’re chasing authenticity.
Closing Reflection: From Billy to the Builders
Billy Squier’s message still echoes in every creator’s struggle:
“Put your left foot out, keep it all in place.”
That’s what CommonX is doing — staying grounded while the world moves fast. Humble enough to remember where we came from. Hungry enough to keep pushing. Because whether it’s a guitar riff or a podcast mic — if you’re building something real, you’re still in the business today.
Feel the Sound of GenerationX with Rare Vynl
CommonX: The Modern-Day Rolling Stone Meets MTV
CommonX Podcast is redefining what modern Gen-X media sounds like. Blending the raw storytelling of Rolling Stone with the cultural punch of MTV and VH1, hosts Ian Primmer and Jared Mayzak bring legendary guests like Rudy Sarzo (Quiet Riot), Ivan Doroschuk (Men Without Hats), Steve Thoma (Fleetwood Mac, Glenn Frey), Richard Oshen (Aerosmith, The Who), and Chris Ballew (Presidents of the USA) together for real, unfiltered conversations that prove authenticity never goes out of style.
The Revival of Real Culture
Before the era of algorithms and influencers, there were storytellers who shaped the world — Rolling Stone, MTV, VH1. They didn’t just cover culture; they created it.
That same energy lives again through CommonX Podcast, the creation of Ian Primmer and Jared Mayzak — two voices from the Gen-X era who saw a gap in the modern media landscape and decided to fill it with something real. CommonX isn’t clickbait. It’s conversation — honest, human, and often hilariously off-script.
From the Garage to the Global Stage
Born from late-night conversations and the grind of true independent creators, CommonX began as a passion project. Now it’s a growing cultural hub where rock legends, thinkers, and creators meet to tell their stories the way they want them told.
What started as two mics and a vision has turned into a time capsule for the Gen-X soul — one that’s both a tribute and a rebellion.
Where Legends Still Have a Voice
From Rudy Sarzo, bassist for Quiet Riot and Ozzy Osbourne, to Ivan Doroschuk of Men Without Hats, CommonX has become a home for the voices that defined the 80s and 90s — and still define rock authenticity today. The lineup doesn’t stop there.
Steve Thoma, who’s shared stages with Fleetwood Mac and Glenn Frey of The Eagles, brought stories that could fill a dozen behind-the-scenes documentaries.
Richard Oshen, the legendary lighting designer who worked with The Who and Aerosmith, offered an inside look at what it took to light up the biggest tours in rock history.
And Chris Ballew, frontman of The Presidents of the United States of America, reminded us that creativity doesn’t fade with time — it just evolves.
Each guest represents a chapter in the soundtrack of Gen-X, and together, they give CommonX its heartbeat.
Rolling Stone Spirit, MTV Energy
CommonX feels like flipping through an old Rolling Stone issue while a VJ queues up your favorite 90s video on MTV. It’s nostalgic without being stuck in the past — a blend of classic storytelling and digital energy that captures both the grit and glory of growing up Gen-X.
The interviews run deep. The laughs are real. And the moments feel like you’re sitting backstage with people who actually lived it.
Why It Matters Now
In a world of short attention spans and cookie-cutter media, CommonX stands apart as a space where authenticity still leads. It’s part cultural reflection, part rebellion — a reminder that Gen-X isn’t done influencing the world; it’s just doing it in a different format.
Every episode adds another piece to the digital legacy of Gen-X: the artists, the thinkers, the musicians, the misfits — all connected by that same instinct to tell it like it is.
CommonX isn’t nostalgia. It’s relevance rediscovered. If Rolling Stone had a podcast baby with MTV, it would sound a lot like this.
🎧 Listen now at commonxpodcast.com and join the modern Gen-X revolution where legends meet the new generation.
Chris Ballew & Beck — When Weirdness Changed the World
Before the hits, Chris Ballew and Beck were friends exploring sound and freedom. Their playful experiments helped shape the 90s alternative rock landscape — and their creative bond still echoes through every note.
Real Talk. Common Ground.
Before stadium crowds sang Peaches and Lump, before Loser became an anthem for every art-school kid who never quite fit in, Chris Ballew and Beck Hansen were just two friends chasing sound in tiny rehearsal rooms.
In the early ’90s they shared basements, cheap tape decks, and a belief that rules were for other people. Beck was experimenting with folk-hip-hop collage; Ballew was testing what could happen if you cut half the strings off a bass. Out of that chaos came a friendship built on curiosity and humor—two kindred spirits learning that imperfection could be its own kind of perfection.
When Beck’s star began to rise, Ballew kept following the same muse back home in Seattle, forming The Presidents of the United States of America. The band’s stripped-down punch felt like a cousin to Beck’s collage pop: witty, raw, and fearless. Together they helped turn “alternative rock” from a label into a language—a space where experimentation, fun, and sincerity could all live in the same three-minute song.
“Playing with Beck reminded me that music is a sandbox, not a science,” Ballew told CommonX. “Every sound you make should surprise you a little.”
A Friendship That Still Resonates
Even decades later, you can hear echoes of those jam-session nights in everything Chris touches—whether it’s the joyful minimalism of the Presidents, his kids-music alter ego Caspar Babypants, or his new solo tracks recorded in his home studio.
That friendship with Beck wasn’t just a chapter; it was a spark that showed both artists how far pure play could go.
🔗 Hear the Conversation
Catch our full talk with Chris Ballew on The CommonX Podcast—streaming now on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and YouTube.