🎬 Why Kevin Smith’s Voice Still Matters — and Always Will
Kevin Smith gave a voice to the dreamers, the outcasts, and the believers who never stopped creating. At CommonX, we reached out to him not as fans, but as fellow storytellers who understand the grind — and who still believe authenticity is the loudest sound in the room.
By Ian Primmer | CommonX Podcast
When you talk about storytelling that truly means something, Kevin Smith’s name always comes up.
He didn’t just make movies — he built conversations. Clerks, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay and Silent Bob Reboot, Clerks III — they’re all love letters to the people who exist between dreams and deadlines.
For us at CommonX, that message hits deep.
We built our podcast with the same raw DNA — a mix of coffee, grit, and a promise to stay genuine even when it’s not easy. Every episode is a reflection of the same kind of heart Kevin’s films captured: imperfect, hilarious, and real.
Smith’s influence is still everywhere. He’s podcasting, directing, touring, and connecting — proving that creativity doesn’t retire, it just reinvents itself. He’s the walking embodiment of the Gen-X spirit: resilient, self-made, and never afraid to laugh through the chaos.
We’ve been lucky enough to host incredible guests like Rudy Sarzo (Ozzy Osbourne, Quiet Riot), Chris Ballew (Presidents of the United States of America), and Richard Karn (Home Improvement). Each one reminded us that the best stories come from people who’ve lived, struggled, and kept showing up.
Inviting Kevin Smith to join us isn’t about chasing names — it’s about connecting with someone who helped shape the creative fire we carry. Because whether it’s behind a mic, a camera, or a counter at Quick Stop, that same Gen-X pulse keeps beating through every story worth telling.
Kevin Smith showed a generation that you don’t need permission to make something meaningful. You just need passion, purpose, and the guts to hit “record.”
So yeah, we sent the invite. Because the CommonX mission has always been the same — amplify real voices, champion authentic creators, and remind the world that truth, humor, and heart still matter.
🎙️ The mic’s open, Kevin. Anytime.
🎧 #CommonXPodcast #KevinSmith #GenX #Clerks #Storytelling #XFiles
Derek Morris Is Proof You’re Not Alone: Songs, Scars, and Showing Up
Humble, driven, and unafraid to speak about what matters most — Derek Morris is a musician who turns pain into purpose. Through his music, he’s helping others find hope, healing, and the courage to keep going. In this exclusive CommonX feature, Derek opens up about his journey through PTSD, his passion for giving back, and the power of using your voice for good.
By Ian Primmer
Today’s guest Derek Morris is the kind of artist who walks in like a neighbor and leaves like a friend — humble, direct, and focused on lifting people up. A San Diego singer-songwriter and visual artist (the mind behind the playful “VEMPS” universe), Derek turns hard chapters into hopeful anthems, sharing messages like “Don’t give up” and “You are not alone” across his work. On the show he opened up about living with PTSD and how music became both a lifeline and a lighthouse for others finding their way. If you land on Derek’s site, you’re greeted with a chorus of encouragement — “You are so loved… You are not a mistake… Don’t give up!” It’s not branding; it’s a mission statement. Derek’s catalog threads pop-punk snap with reflective alt-rock and cinematic textures, from the electric punch of “777” to the atmospheric “You Don’t Need to Know Right Now.”
Turning Pain Into Promise
Derek has spoken publicly about surviving abuse, addiction, and the long tail of trauma, naming PTSD directly — and then writing through it. Recent posts tease “Never Stop Fighting,” a song explicitly about living with PTSD and refusing to let it have the last word. For fans who need to hear it, Derek writes like a friend on the other side of the storm: keep going. Beyond songs, Derek’s “VEMPS” characters and art books widen his canvas — a bright, hand-drawn counterweight to heavy themes. It’s kinetic, kid-curious, and unmistakably his — evidence that recovery isn’t just survival; it’s creative overflow.
777” — official video; neon-noir energy with a resilient core. YouTube
“You Don’t Need to Know Right Now” — reflective, West-coast melancholy. YouTube
“Never Stop Fighting” (teaser) — a direct letter to anyone living with PTSD.
On-mic and off, Derek carried himself with the same humble steadiness you hear in his songs. He told us he shares freely and keeps showing up because someone out there needs the message today, not tomorrow. Beyond the stage lights and studio sessions, Derek Morris has found another outlet for connection — the podcast world. Whether he’s sharing stories about overcoming challenges, talking shop about songwriting, or offering words of encouragement to those battling PTSD, Derek’s voice carries the same honesty found in his lyrics. His mission is simple: to uplift, to connect, and to give freely through both conversation and music. Each time he picks up a mic, it’s not just about the notes or the words — it’s about healing, hope, and helping others find their own rhythm in the noise.
There’s a rare kind of artist who reminds you that authenticity still exists — that music can still heal, inspire, and bridge the space between pain and purpose. Derek Morris is one of those artists. From the first moment he walked into the studio, there was no ego, no walls — just a genuine soul who uses his voice and his guitar as tools for light. His story is one of resilience, of living with purpose through the storms of PTSD and finding redemption in the notes he shares so freely with the world. Derek doesn’t just make music — he gives it away, both literally and emotionally, pouring pieces of himself into every chord and every conversation. As podcasters, we meet a lot of people chasing fame or recognition; Derek isn’t one of them. He’s chasing connection. And in a world that can feel divided and loud, that kind of humility and strength is something worth amplifying. CommonX is honored to share his story — not because he asked us to, but because people like him remind us why we do this in the first place.