Built From the Ground Up: Why Summit Racing Still Defines the Spirit of the Garage

There’s a sound every Gen-Xer remembers — the deep, metallic symphony of wrenches hitting concrete, the slow hum of a shop light flickering to life, and a record spinning somewhere in the background while an engine idles between rebuilds. Before “add to cart” was a thing, there was a catalog. And before algorithms told you what you needed, there was Summit Racing — the original source of horsepower, dreams, and busted knuckles.

In those days, your garage wasn’t a side project. It was your sanctuary. You didn’t wait for motivation. You waited for the weekend.

The Gen-X Blueprint: Build It Yourself, Break It Again, Build It Better

Our generation didn’t grow up in a world of tutorials and influencer builds. We learned by trial, error, and torque. If something broke, you fixed it — because you had to. If the part didn’t fit, you made it fit. And Summit Racing was there for every late-night brainstorm, every half-finished beer, every moment you realized “Hell yeah, this is gonna work.”

For a lot of us, flipping through that thick Summit catalog was like scrolling through the future. Every page felt like an invitation to try something you weren’t supposed to — a bigger carb, a crazier cam, a louder exhaust. It was rebellion printed in glossy color.

🔥 Summit Racing – Gear Up and Build Yours

Still Running Strong

Fast-forward to now, and Summit Racing hasn’t slowed down — it’s evolved right alongside the generation that made it famous. From carbureted Chevelles to turbocharged Teslas, the gearheads of Gen-X never stopped building. We just started building different.

That same garage culture? Still alive. Still loud. Still covered in grease and glory. And while the world’s moved to subscription boxes and disposable everything, Summit Racing remains a haven for people who still believe in fixing over replacing. You can feel it every time you order a part — that mix of anticipation, pride, and a little nostalgia for the smell of motor oil and gasoline.

⚙️ Check out Summit’s latest performance upgrades

The CommonX Parallel

That’s why this story hits home for us at CommonX. We’ve always been about the same thing — building something real with your own hands. Whether it’s a podcast, a brand, or a machine, there’s no shortcut worth taking.

Just like Summit Racing, we came up from garages, basements, and backyards. No investors, no filters, no “growth hacks.” Just heart and hustle. Even now, you can feel the spirit of that culture in everything we do — whether it’s the topics we cover, the people we bring on, or the partners we align with.

Richard Karn and the Home Improvement Generation

When we think of Richard Karn, we think of that same vibe — tools, laughter, life lessons. He represents a generation that didn’t just “have tools,” but knew how to use them. That was the golden age of garage life. Every dad, uncle, and friend had a project car or a busted lawnmower that needed fixing. The garage was our classroom, and Summit Racing was the textbook.

It wasn’t about money or showing off. It was about pride — the pride of hearing something roar back to life because you made it happen.

🔩 Summit Racing: Parts. Pride. Performance.

The Rebellion Never Idles

Today, most people scroll, tap, or stream their way through projects. But the Gen-X mindset? It’s still out there, alive in garages, workshops, and driveways across America. It’s alive in every man or woman who says, “Yeah, I’ll fix it myself.” We don’t wait for someone to show us how — we figure it out.

That’s the Summit Racing way. That’s the CommonX way. And that’s what separates the doers from the dreamers.

Full Circle

So here we are, a few decades later — still chasing that same sound of an engine finding its rhythm. Still turning wrenches to shake off the noise of a world that forgot what real work feels like. Still holding on to something pure — something mechanical, something human. Because for Gen-X, this was never just about cars. It was about building something that runs.

So if you’ve got that itch — the one that hits around sunset when the day slows down — don’t ignore it. Open the garage door. Throw on some music. And let Summit Racing take care of the rest.

🏁 Start Building with Summit Racing Equipment

Because the dream never idles.

🏁 Throttle Therapy: The GOAT Never Quit (Ricky Carmichael)

Illustrated poster of motocross legend Ricky Carmichael mid-air on his dirt bike, wearing Alpinestars gear, surrounded by dust and motion blur. Bold text reads “Throttle Therapy – The GOAT Never Quit,” with Summit Racing and Alpinestars logos beside a graffiti-style CommonX tag. The artwork captures Gen-X rebellion, adrenaline, and the unstoppable spirit of speed.

By Ian Primmer - CommonX

There’s a moment every Gen-X kid remembers — the smell of two-stroke in the air, a dirt trail disappearing into the horizon, and a hand-me-down bike that rattled more than it roared. We didn’t need perfect; we needed fast. Speed wasn’t a sport — it was therapy. It was escape. It was rebellion in motion.

And nobody embodied that more than Ricky Carmichael, the man who turned motocross from a pastime into poetry — wide open, fearless, and all-in.

Ricky Carmichael at motorcrossusa.com

The GOAT of Grit

Ricky wasn’t born into fame — he built it from the ground up, throttle by throttle, crash by crash. He wasn’t chasing luxury or algorithms; he was chasing seconds. Every turn was a war zone, every fall a test of will. That’s what made him the Greatest of All Time — not just his speed, but his refusal to quit. Gen X gets that. We were raised on scraped knees and loud engines — the analog roar that told the world we were alive. While everyone else was learning to play safe, we were learning how to fly.

Carmichael didn’t just win races; he defined the culture. He was the dirt-track philosopher, proving that greatness doesn’t come from polish — it comes from persistence.

From Dirt Tracks to Driveways — The Gen-X Engine

We’re older now. The bikes might be cleaner, the garages more organized, but that itch never went away.
Every Gen-Xer still knows what “wide open” feels like.

It’s that same pulse that drives us — whether it’s building businesses, podcasts, or lives that refuse to idle.
That’s why Summit Racing and Alpinestars hit home for us. They’re not brands — they’re badges of the same rebellion that raised us.

“If you grew up fixing what you broke, you’re one of us.”

Summit Racing — the garage that built a generation. Power, precision, and performance for those who still believe speed is freedom.

Summit Racing keeps the garage sacred — the modern temple of creativity, sweat, and horsepower.
Alpinestars keeps the body safe while the spirit chases chaos.

Together, they represent the new chapter of Gen-X grit — smarter, stronger, and still addicted to the rush.

🏁 Sponsored by Summit Racing & Alpinestars

🛠️ Built for the bold. Fueled by freedom.
Shop Summit Racing
Explore Alpinestars

Alpinestars — engineered for the fearless. From dirt tracks to street legends, they keep the Gen-X spirit of motion alive.

“The Soundtrack Still Matters (SONOS Edition)”

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

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

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

Layne Staley (1967–2002): The Voice That Still Echoes in Us All

by Ian Primmer, Co-host-CommonX

When Layne Staley took the stage during MTV Unplugged, it wasn’t just another performance — it was confession through melody. His hollow eyes told stories the lyrics could barely contain. The lights were soft, the air thick with silence, and a generation sat frozen in front of their TVs watching a man unravel his soul.

Layne Staley performs on MTV Unplugged, seated under soft blue-purple lights, microphone in hand, delivering an emotional performance that defined the 1990s grunge era.

Staley didn’t just sing about pain — he made it sound beautiful. Every note was a war between addiction and truth, between the life he lived and the one he wished he could reach. In an era that taught Gen X to bury feelings beneath sarcasm and cynicism, Layne stood there — fragile, unfiltered, unafraid — and let it all bleed through the mic.

“I believe in love and what it’s done to me.”

Those words, that trembling voice, became the heartbeat of the 90s Seattle sound — a generation of latchkey kids, garage-band dreamers, and late-night thinkers who found comfort in his chaos.

The Weight of a Generation

For many of us, Alice in Chains wasn’t background music; it was a survival tool. Staley’s voice could make you feel less alone in the middle of a storm. Songs like Nutshell, Down in a Hole, and Rooster weren’t just tracks — they were lifelines. Every time Layne opened his mouth, it was like he reached into the static of our teenage bedrooms and said, “I get it.” Even now, his performances remain hauntingly timeless. Watch that MTV Unplugged session again and you’ll see it — the rawest honesty ever broadcast through a mainstream channel. It was unpolished, imperfect, and completely unforgettable.

Layne Staley live in concert — the soul of Alice in Chains. His delivery was never about perfection; it was about truth. Every lyric carried the weight of lived experience, making him one of the most honest voices to emerge from the Seattle grunge movement.

The Beauty in the Broken

Layne’s story wasn’t a fairytale. It ended too soon, and yet his voice never really left. His pain became a mirror for an entire generation still trying to understand why the brightest lights often burn the fastest. In the years since his passing, his influence has only grown stronger. You can hear his echo in every modern artist who dares to show vulnerability, who sings like they’ve lived every word. Layne Staley didn’t just define an era — he humanized it.

Still Echoing

Two decades later, we still hear him — in the static between songs, in the ache of every record player needle, in the hearts of every Gen X’er who refuses to let the past fade quietly. He was more than a frontman. He was a poet for the misunderstood.
And as long as his songs keep playing, Layne Staley will never really be gone.

Rare Vinyl logo and imagery symbolizing classic record collecting — stacks of vintage LPs, turntables, and album art — representing a global destination for authentic vinyl records.

About This Article

This tribute is part of The X-Files series by CommonX Podcast, where we celebrate the artists, thinkers, and cultural sparks that shaped Generation X.
🎧 Read more at commonxpodcast.com/thex-files

The Stroke — What It Takes to Build Something Real

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.

🎧 Listen on Spotify | 💬 More from The X-Files

Feel the Sound of GenerationX with Rare Vynl

When MTV Played Videos: A Love Letter to Late-Night Beavis and Butt-Head

Before algorithms, before influencers, there were two idiots on a couch who somehow spoke for a generation. This is a look back at when MTV still had guts, when Beavis and Butt-Head were our midnight philosophers, and when rock videos meant something.

In the ‘90s, MTV was still dangerous — a little unpredictable, a little punk. You never knew what you’d catch between “Headbangers Ball” and a commercial for JNCO jeans. Then these two idiots appeared: acne, Metallica shirts, and zero attention span. And somehow, that was the attention span of the decade.

Beavis and Butt-Head didn’t just mock music videos — they dissected the absurdity of pop culture without even trying. When they laughed at a Bon Jovi ballad or shredded some random alt-rock band you barely knew, it felt like the world was in on a private joke. And that’s what Gen X did best — laugh at the nonsense while secretly paying attention to the meaning underneath it all.

Those late-night viewings were a rite of passage. We weren’t just watching cartoons; we were learning the language of irony. MTV in that era wasn’t a network, it was a mirror — showing us our boredom, our rebellion, our desire for something real. It was chaos with a remote control, and Mike Judge’s duo gave us permission to laugh through it all.

And the music… man, the music was alive. Nirvana, Soundgarden, White Zombie, Smashing Pumpkins — even the pop garbage had an edge when filtered through Beavis and Butt-Head’s commentary. It was music television the way it was meant to be: unpolished, unpredictable, and soaked in teenage apathy.

Somewhere between then and now, we traded that chaos for “curation.” MTV became reality TV, music moved to the background, and the laughter got replaced with comment sections. But that late-night glow — that raw, dumb, brilliant humor — shaped how a whole generation sees the world today. We’re skeptical, sarcastic, self-aware… and still laughing at the system.

So yeah — this one’s for the night owls who kept the volume low so the folks wouldn’t wake up. For the ones who didn’t need a filter to find what was cool. For the ones who still hear “Breaking the Law” and crack up thinking of Beavis screaming, “Heh… fire!”

When MTV played videos, we didn’t just watch. We remembered.

Authored by Ian Primmer, Co-host — CommonX

When Halloween Was Dangerous (And Awesome)

Back when a plastic mask could suffocate you, your mom’s flashlight batteries were dead, and every Snickers bar was a potential crime scene — we still went door to door.

And we loved it.

It’s not just a trip down memory lane — it’s a cultural reflection on how Gen-X grew up balancing freedom, fear, and fun.

“Razor blades in apples, cyanide Pixy Stix, poison in candy… yet none of us stopped trick-or-treating. If it wasn’t factory-sealed, it went in the trash — right after Dad ‘inspected’ it for us.” Plastic masks that fogged up, capes that caught fire, street crossings in the dark. The one house that gave out full-size candy bars, or the creepy neighbor everyone avoided.

Today’s parents track kids via GPS; we were lucky if we made it home before the 10 PM news.

The 90’s Home Run Kings: When the Crack of a Bat Still Meant Something

There was a time when baseball wasn’t about algorithms, launch angles, or exit velocity — it was about swagger. About flipping on the TV, hearing that crowd swell, and seeing a man step into the box with nothing but pine tar, determination, and a dream.

The 1990s gave us an era of pure magic. You could walk into any backyard in America and hear kids calling out names — McGwire, Sosa, Griffey Jr. — before swinging at tennis balls with a cracked aluminum bat. The Home Run Chase of ’98 might’ve been the headline, but for those of us here in the Pacific Northwest, Ken Griffey Jr. was our guy. The smoothest swing the game has ever seen. He didn’t need the hype or the headlines — he had that effortless smile, the backwards cap, and a natural rhythm that made every home run look like poetry.

Griffey wasn’t just a player — he was a cultural landmark. In the PNW, he turned baseball into an art form, and for a generation of Gen-Xers, he became the symbol of what made the 90s real. The game wasn’t filtered, sponsored, or over-analyzed. It was grit, heart, and the smell of dust on a summer evening.

And every one of us had our own backyard version of that dream — a glove that never quite broke in, a bat we swore was lucky, and a Franklin ball set that somehow survived a hundred neighborhood games. It was the golden age of backyard baseball — before smartphones, before streams, before anyone said “content.”

That’s why we’re throwing it back today — to remember the kings who made the 90s unforgettable and to celebrate the gear that helped build those memories.

The Legacy Lives On

We didn’t grow up chasing algorithms or comparing exit velocity; we grew up chasing fly balls until the sun dipped behind the neighborhood trees. Those summer nights were the real highlight reels — dirty hands, busted knuckles, and that one friend who could launch a plastic ball clear over the fence like he was Sosa.

But for those of us who came up in the Pacific Northwest, one name still echoes louder than all the rest — Ken Griffey Jr. He wasn’t just a player, he was the soundtrack to our summers. That swing was pure rhythm, that backwards cap pure rebellion. Griffey taught an entire generation that cool didn’t mean trying too hard — it meant being yourself, and letting the work speak louder than the hype.

Today, when you pull on a glove or toss a ball to your kids in the yard, you’re not just passing time — you’re passing down a piece of that era. It’s more than nostalgia; it’s legacy. And whether you’re dusting off your old mitt or starting fresh with new gear, Franklin Sports is still out there — same logo, same spirit, same connection to the game we grew up loving.

👉 Check out Franklin Sports gear here — because the only thing better than remembering the 90s is reliving them with your own crew.

CommonX: The Modern-Day Rolling Stone Meets MTV

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.

Two Voices, One Frequency: How CommonX Reached 25 Countries

From a small town in Washington to speakers and screens in 25 countries, the CommonX Podcast with Jared & Ian is proving that real talk, laughter, and Gen-X honesty travel farther than anyone expected.

When we started CommonX, the dream was simple — to talk about the world the way we saw it. Two Gen-X friends from Deer Park, Washington, microphones in hand, hoping maybe a few people would listen.

Now, that little idea has crossed oceans. Listeners are tuning in from the United States, Canada, Romania, Peru, France, Turkey, Kenya, Colombia, China, South Korea, Guyana, Venezuela, Bahrain, Argentina, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh, South Africa, Australia, Brazil, the Philippines, Russia, the United Kingdom, Spain, and India.

That’s twenty-five countries. That’s a lot of shared stories, laughs, and moments that connect us all.

It turns out, no matter where you live, the feeling of being part of Generation X — that mix of independence, skepticism, humor, and heart — hits home everywhere.

So here’s to the listeners. To everyone out there on night shifts, in traffic, on treadmills, or sitting in silence with earbuds in — thank you for letting us be part of your world.

We may be two middle-aged guys from a small town, but together with all of you, we’re building something global, one honest conversation at a time.

Humans, AI, and the Art of Trust -by CommonX Podcast

There’s something wild about getting an email from an AI named Cindy who wants to book guests for your show. On the surface, it feels efficient — a futuristic assistant helping another creator connect the dots. But underneath, it begs the question:

what happens when human connection becomes something we outsource?

Technology’s always been our dance partner. We grew up on cassette decks, dial-up modems, and the first whispers of the internet. Now, AI writes, speaks, recommends — even pretends to feel. It’s smart, no doubt. But it’s also learning how to sound human. That’s both incredible and unnerving. Because in a world full of perfect algorithms, authenticity becomes the rarest currency of all.

When that AI (Cindy) emailed us, it wasn’t spam — it was strategy. Someone out there trusted a machine to build trust with us. And that’s the twist. It wasn’t about the code — it was about the creator behind it, hoping for connection and that’s where CommonX lives — in that gap between human stories and digital noise. Between the hands that build and the ones that feel.

We talk with people who’ve lived through both sides — analog souls in a digital age — and every time, we come back to this truth: trust isn’t downloaded. It’s earned.

🎙️ Real Talk, Real Connection

AI can write, suggest, mimic — but it can’t mean. Meaning comes from being fallible, passionate, even wrong sometimes. That’s why real conversation — the kind that happens on a mic, between people — still matters. At CommonX, we’re not anti-tech. We’re just pro-human. Because no matter how advanced AI gets, it can’t replace intent.

Trust isn’t in the lines of code. It’s in the moments between them. It’s in listening — really listening — even when someone’s not sure how to say it. It’s in believing that we can use technology to amplify our humanity, not erase it. That’s the art. That’s the future we choose.

CommonX Podcast — Real Talk. Common Ground.

Article written by Ian Primmer, Co-host CommonX

Chris Ballew & Beck — When Weirdness Changed the World

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.

🎙️ Be Our Guest — Join the Conversation on the CommonX Podcast

Real Talk. Common Ground…

Ever wanted to share your story on a podcast that actually means something?

The CommonX Podcast with Jared & Ian is built on honest conversation, Gen X energy, and stories that connect people from every walk of life.

We’ve interviewed rock legends, entrepreneurs, authors, and everyday people doing extraordinary things — and we’re just getting started.

Now, we’re opening the door for new guests who want to bring their voice, experience, and authenticity to the table.

💬 What We’re Looking For

We’re after real people with real stories — the kind that spark thought, laughter, or goosebumps.

Musicians, creators, veterans, dreamers, innovators — if your story connects to human experience, we want to hear it.

Whether you’ve lived through wild times, built something from nothing, or just have a perspective the world needs to hear, CommonX is where those stories come to life.

📩 How to Reach Us

Our official guest submission page is in the works (coming soon!), but in the meantime, you can reach us directly:

📧 Email: commonxpodcast@gmail.com

When you reach out, tell us a little about yourself — who you are, what you’d love to talk about, and why your story matters.

🧠 Behind the Mic

The CommonX Podcast is hosted by Jared Mayzak and Ian Primmer, two Gen-X voices dedicated to keeping real conversations alive. No scripts, no spin — just the kind of talk that reminds you why connection still matters.

Woodstock 2030: The Revival of Real” A CommonX vision of peace, purpose, and pure rock-and-roll spirit.

The world’s been spinning fast, algorithms louder than guitars, and “authentic” feels like an endangered species. CommonX was born from that chaos — a show for Gen Xers who still believe in the power of a good riff, a strong handshake, and conversations that actually mean something.

So when the idea of Woodstock 2030 first hit, it wasn’t nostalgia. It was rebellion.

A dream of bringing music, meaning, and community back to the front of the stage — one festival, one family, one movement at a time.

The Concept

Woodstock 2030 isn’t about reliving the past; it’s about reclaiming what made it matter. Picture a multi-day event that fuses:

• Legendary & Emerging Artists — the icons that shaped us and the voices carrying the torch forward.

• Thinkers & Creators — podcasters, filmmakers, activists, and innovators sharing stories that challenge and connect.

• Curb Fail Productions installations, film showcases, and live podcast tapings — where conversations become part of the experience.

• A New Era Marketplace — sustainable vendors, local creators, and Gen X-approved brands who still give a damn.

The Mission

To remind the world that music can still move mountains.

That peace, love, and rebellion aren’t relics — they’re blueprints.

That CommonX was never just a podcast… it’s a pulse.

How We Get There

2030 gives us time to build this the right way:

1. Grow the Tribe — keep expanding the CommonX audience across TikTok, YouTube, and Spotify.

2. Partner with Purpose — from classic gear companies (Shure, Fender, Skullcandy) to ethical lifestyle brands.

3. Scout the Venue — think Pacific Northwest, desert plateau, or abandoned airfield-turned-art-zone.

4. Curate the Lineup — mix legacy acts with breakout artists who embody the Gen X work ethic and authenticity.

5. Document the Journey — the road to Woodstock 2030 becomes a film itself — produced by Curb Fail Productions.

Why It Matters

Because somebody has to remind the next generation what it feels like to stand in a crowd, hear real instruments, and believe again.

Because CommonX was built for people who still chase that high — the roar of the crowd, the hum of connection, the truth in the noise.

The Invitation

We’re not waiting for permission.

We’re calling for creators, musicians, filmmakers, dreamers, and believers to join the movement.

Woodstock 2030 isn’t just a concert — it’s a comeback for humanity.

CommonX Presents | Woodstock 2030

Peace • Love • Music • Reality Restored

www.commonxpodcast.com

Fast Food, Fake Wins, and Gen-X Dreams: The True Story Behind McDonald’s Monopoly

Before NFTs, loot boxes, and online sweepstakes, Gen-X had one obsession — the McDonald’s Monopoly game. Every fry box felt like a ticket to millionaire status. But behind the peel-off stickers and supersized dreams was one of the biggest corporate scams of the 90s — a heist so wild it could only have happened in our era of fast food, faster money, and zero internet oversight.

The Game That Hooked a Generation

Launched in 1987, Monopoly at McDonald’s blended two things we couldn’t resist: nostalgia and instant gratification. Stickers on fries, sodas, and Big Macs promised “collect to win” prizes — cars, cash, and even a million dollars.

Lines grew longer, and for Gen-Xers on lunch breaks, this was our version of Vegas. From 1989 to 2001, an insider at the marketing agency Simon Marketing stole the winning pieces and distributed them to friends and relatives for kickbacks.

Over $24 million in prizes were claimed fraudulently. The FBI called it “Operation Final Answer.”

No one inside McDonald’s had a clue for years.

Why It Worked — and Why It Couldn’t Happen Today

There was no digital tracking, no blockchain, and no QR codes — just paper and trust. It was the perfect crime for the analog Gen-X era: low-tech, personal, and fueled by greed and loyalty.

Today’s giveaways use serial codes, cross-referenced databases, and third-party audits — but back then, all it took was access to the sticker vault.

The Fallout

Dozens were indicted in 2001. McDonald’s suspended the game for years. HBO later turned the story into the 2020 docuseries McMillions, which reignited nostalgia for the scam that defined an era. For Gen-Xers, it became another “remember when” moment — proof that even our childhood fun had an underbelly.

Why It Still Resonates

The McMonopoly heist reminds us how trusting — and connected — we all were in the pre-social-media world. We believed in stickers, sweepstakes, and small wins. It’s the same spirit that makes podcasts like ours thrive today — real stories, human flaws, and that endless chase for the golden ticket.

Got your own Monopoly memories? Share them with us at commonxpodcast.com or tag us on social with #CommonXPodcast. We’re peeling back the layers of Gen-X life — one sticker at a time.

🧩 The Algorithm That Ate Rock ’n’ RollFiled under the X by Jared & Ian | Curb Fail Productions™

🎸 When the Beat Went Digital

Once upon a mixtape, we ruled the airwaves. We made playlists with pencils, burned CDs in real time, and hunted for B-sides in dusty bins. Then came the algorithm—a silent DJ with no soul but unlimited data.

It promised to “learn our taste.” Instead, it learned what keeps us scrolling.

📲 From Counterculture to Calculated Culture

Rock used to break rules. Now, playlists break metrics.
Every chorus is shorter, intros vanish, and hooks hit by second 11 because that’s when TikTok users start swiping. Labels don’t ask, “Does it move people?” They ask, “Does it trend?”

The garage band became a content brand. The anthem became an “asset.”
We didn’t sell out—the system bought us wholesale.

🧠 The Data Knows You Better Than You Do

Streaming platforms read mood swings like psychologists on caffeine.
Play three breakup songs, and they’ll drown you in melancholy until you forget what silence sounds like.

The algorithm isn’t evil—it’s efficient. But efficiency kills surprise. When everything’s predicted, nothing feels dangerous, and rock was born in danger.

⚡ Can the Spirit Survive?

Rock never dies; it mutates. The same Gen-X grit that survived dial-up is now hiding in garage livestreams, indie podcasts, and vinyl resurrections. The algorithm can mimic rhythm, but it can’t fake heart.

Maybe the next rebellion isn’t distortion through an amp—it’s authenticity through the noise.

🧭 The CommonX Frequency

We talk about this every week—real voices cutting through the static. Tune in, share the stories, and keep that analog soul alive inside the digital machine.

🎙️ Listen to the full CommonX Podcast on Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you still believe in rock ’n’ roll.

The X Files: The Greatest Horror Movies of the 1980s — When Fear Was FUN

If you were a Gen-X kid, chances are your first taste of rebellion didn’t come from a guitar riff — it came from the glow of a tube TV at 1 a.m. while your parents slept and Freddy Krueger whispered your name. The ’80s didn’t just make horror; it perfected it.

🩸

1. A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

Wes Craven’s dream demon turned sleep into a deathtrap and forever blurred the line between nightmare and reality. Freddy was every babysitter’s worst bedtime story and the first horror villain with true rock-star swagger.

🪚

2. The Thing (1982)

John Carpenter took paranoia to Antarctica and showed us that the real monster was the friend sitting next to you. Practical effects that still hold up 40 years later? That’s Gen-X craftsmanship.

🧟

3. The Evil Dead (1981)

Sam Raimi’s cabin-in-the-woods insanity birthed both cult horror and DIY filmmaking. Ash Williams became the chainsaw-armed blueprint for every reluctant hero that followed.

🔪

4. Friday the 13th (1980)

Before Jason donned the hockey mask, Camp Crystal Lake already ruined summer camp for an entire generation. Slasher tropes, blood budgets, and unforgettable screams — the ’80s started it here.

👻

5. Poltergeist (1982)

“They’re here…”  Nothing captured suburban dread like this Spielberg-produced classic. Haunted TVs, static screens, and the myth that cursed the cast — it’s American folklore now.

🧛

6. The Lost Boys (1987)

Leather jackets, Echo & the Bunnymen, and vampire teens that made immortality look sexy. It wasn’t just horror; it was style — pure Gen-X rebellion with fangs.

💀

7. Hellraiser (1987)

Clive Barker’s masterpiece of pain, pleasure, and imagination opened a puzzle box we’ve never closed. The ’80s dared to get weird, and Pinhead made sure we liked it that way.

⚡

Why It Still Matters

These films weren’t just scary — they were mirrors of a generation that grew up between nuclear drills and MTV. They taught Gen-X that fear could be art, and art could be outrageous.

So cue up your VHS, dim the lights, and remember:

we survived the ’80s — and the monsters were our friends.

From Music to the Real World: How MTV Raised Us — and the World Changed the Channel

🎧 Chapter 1 — When Music Was the Message

There was a time when MTV actually played music.
When videos weren’t background noise — they were cultural events.
We learned about style from Bowie, rebellion from Cobain, and philosophy from a three-minute video that aired between Yo! MTV Raps and Headbangers Ball.

Those weren’t just songs — they were mini manifestos. We didn’t just hear the message; we lived it.

CommonX Take: We didn’t need influencers — we had anthems.

🧨 Chapter 2 — Generation Analog

Before algorithms told us what to like, we found our own vibe.
We made mixtapes for crushes. We waited for our favorite video to air.
We memorized Beavis and Butt-Head quotes and tried to decode the weird brilliance of 120 Minutes.

We didn’t scroll. We searched.

And when the lights finally came up, we realized those hours weren’t wasted — they built the foundation of who we are: adaptable, skeptical, and somehow still hopeful.

🏡 Chapter 3 — The Real World (No, Not the Show)

When the bills started showing up and the volume turned down, we found out the mosh pit doesn’t prepare you for a mortgage.
But that same rebellious energy? It still works — just repurposed.
We fight for our kids, our craft, our sanity. We’re not smashing guitars anymore; we’re smashing expectations.

We learned that the “real world” isn’t something you age into — it’s something you create when the stage lights go out.

🎤 Chapter 4 — How CommonX Keeps the Music Playing

That’s why we built CommonX — a place where real talk feels like vinyl: authentic, a little scratchy, but built to last.
Our guests — from punk icons to hometown heroes — all share that same truth: the dream never really dies, it just evolves.

CommonX Take: We grew up on feedback and distortion — that’s why we still cut through the noise.

🕹️ Chapter 5 — The Credits Roll, but the Story Doesn’t

MTV may have become reality TV, but reality became our story.
We learned to make meaning out of chaos — to stay creative, curious, and kind of pissed off in the best way possible.
And through CommonX, we keep that rhythm alive — one episode, one guest, one truth at a time.

🎧 Stay Tuned, Stay Loud

👉 Listen on Spotify
👉 Watch on YouTube