Wired To The Groove -- Local Internet Broadcaster Turns On, Tunes In To A Global Dance Scene

Eleven a.m. on a workaday Wednesday; you've just booted up your office computer. But, as you type, musical beats drum along with your keystrokes. This is "Internet radio," from Seattle broadcasters Groovetech, a Web site that deals in the dance music spun by DJs. Not only can you hear the Groovetech DJ, however. You can also see him, mixing records live on turntables. This a.m., it's DJ Rinse, spinning "jungle music."

DJ Rinse takes his moniker from dance-floor slang ("rinsing the samples" means splicing sounds on two turntables). But if you want to know more, post a message on the site. Across town, copywriter Bev Gabe sees it. She e-mails answers: DJ Rinse is actually from San Francisco. But he'll be spinning live that night, at The Vogue.

In Oakland, Ira Siwatu is also working to Groovetech. A tech-support engineer, Ira appreciates its clear "streaming": the delivery of sound and vision data over the Net. But Ira doesn't listen unless it's playing jungle. San Diego's Blanca Rodriguez isn't quite so picky. At the Carpenter's Joint Apprenticeship and Training Committee Fund, Groovetech takes her back to the nightclub.

Others listen in different time zones. For Barendt Mondt in the Netherlands or Italy's Andrea Luciani, DJ Rinse is providing an evening treat. More than a few sites attempt such "Internet radio." But Groovetech's dance-floor sounds enjoy a passionate, global fan base.

At 10 p.m. Seattle time, the live performances cease (DJs, after all, also have to go to work). But, from 10 p.m. to 10 a.m., they replay old sets, live performances already burned onto CDs.

No matter when a Web surfer finds the site, he or she can always see a DJ spinning. In two-hour sets, the players cycle through genres: from beats'n'breaks to trance, jungle, dancehall, downtempo, house, techno, hip-hop. In addition to the broadcasts they create in-house, Groovetech streams DJs from Rio de Janeiro, Los Angeles, Capitol Hill and San Francisco.

The site also hosts a new online shopping service; much of what it plays, it plans to sell also.

Indeed, this is a silicon dream-come-true: a home page that grew into a Limited Liability Company. Groove Technologies Inc., the corporation behind the site, also maintains an office in London. But its youthful founders are Seattleites. If you work downtown, you're only minutes from its doors.

Once, that door opened onto a snowboard factory. Now, thanks to sweat equity and miles of wiring, it is a clean and comfy - if minimal - cyber-center. One corner is dominated by the DJ booth; across the floor loom the office and a huge record storeroom.

Its story started four years ago. That was when RealNetworks worker Zach Jenkins, now 22, met Brian Pember, now 24. For five years, Pember had DJ'd in Seattle; while at Shorewood High School he ran his own sound system.

Jenkins had always been involved with computers. When he joined the Real team (then known as Progressive Networks), he was enrolled as employee No. 80.

The two friends wanted to try to champion dancefloor music, and they started with Zach Jenkins' home page. They added a calendar of underground raves and parties, tips on finding tunes - and club listings. Then, they renamed the Web site Groovetech.

At his day job, Jenkins often spoke to record labels; he envisioned some as contributors to the Web site. But he and Pember knew this brought up legal issues, from licensing fees to intellectual property rights. So they approached a business-student friend, Jon Cunningham. He agreed to join their partnership.

Cunningham, now 23, already had two jobs. He was at community college and worked in a downtown hotel. Still, he helped Groovetech consolidate a working system.

"The deal is, we can offer technical skills. With RealAudio, we host people's stuff on our site. Then, the music sources provide content; that's the trade-off."

In 1996, Groovetech made a radical move. Instead of simply storing sound files to be downloaded, it used RealAudio to stream a broadcast over the Net. In real time, its site showed the DJs at a club, Electrolush. This inspired promoters to use it for streamed performances, some of which lasted more than five hours.

The Web site's partners were still living at home; they conducted much of their business via e-mail. Then, late in '96, the U.K. company Netmare asked Groovetech to broadcast Britain's Tribal Gathering. This huge, three-day rave was held every spring. It ran three days on a sprawling site, with 5,000 fans. For Groovetech, it would constitute a leap to the big time.

"So we had to really get serious," says Cunningham. "We had to incorporate, redo our Web site, find a lawyer."

Within weeks, they became the clients of a business and technology lawyer, Steven Winters.

He knew the team lacked money and faced uphill battles. But their chemistry still caught his fancy. "My practice is flooded with e-commerce companies, each of them determined to `do it differently.' But that's lawyer-intensive; it costs a lot of money."

Winters pauses. "However, you do develop instincts. It's like a band with a good demo tape; you think, `Hey; this might work!' "

The team had no income from its company. So Cunningham handled all the business, using Winters' guidelines. His approach was also shaped at his high school, Kentwood. "I learned a lot there, from this really great business teacher. Even then, I was finding buyers on the Internet."

Unwittingly, Cunningham perfected skills he would need for Groovetech. Similarly, Netmare led to bigger fish. The first emissary it sent to Seattle from Britain shared his enthusiasm with a friend back home. That friend passed it on to a pal of his father's: a pillar of '60s music management.

He pored over Groovetech's embryonic business plan. Then he proposed himself as a principal investor. His only caveat: He would remain a silent partner.

Last November, during a rock-'n-'roll world tour, eight months of negotiation was scheduled to consummate with his visit. But that occasion forced Groovetech to confront the obvious - it lacked any sort of actual, physical office.

"Here was this celebrity," says Pember wryly. "We couldn't show him computers in our bedrooms."

Instead, using Cunningham's job connections, they installed the visitor in a smart hotel suite. He viewed their Web site in Jenkins' RealNetworks' office. Then, they met in the board room at Winters' firm. The day was a masterpiece of creative improvisation.

In the end, Groovetech got what it wanted: a financial backer willing to see things their way. They have retained editorial control of their Web site. Plus, Groovetech's head office stayed in Seattle.

Says Pember, "This is hardly the center of the world dance community. But being here has given us distinct advantages. We're better off with less access to the premier talents and much greater access to technology."

For them, that means RealNetworks' new G2 player, whose main competitor is Microsoft's Netshow. (Apple is now developing streaming technology for its QuickTime.) Since last August, when it debuted in-house radio, Groovetech has always used the G2 player.

"It makes the video more fluid," says Pember. "It has more frames per second, plus options for brightness and contrast."

G2 also offers two exclusive features: SureStream and Gecko. "SureStream," explains Jenkins, "means there's less chance of a glitch in the audio. Instead of causing that, the video downgrades automatically - which gives you a continuously better sound. Gecko is a CODEC (compressor and decompressor) which makes your sound's back end cleaner."

Before Groovetech could begin using G2, however, it had to create a viable base for broadcasts. It located its 2,500-square-foot warehouse early last June. But it was an empty shell, without even a telephone line. Cunningham himself wired in five connections for phones and modems, plus three ISDN lines for greater bandwidth.

Groovetech's other summer addition was a staff member: Carey Stone, who manages the in-house radio. Stone juggles this with three other jobs: at Delicious Records, ARO.space and Sweet Mother Recordings. All give her increased access to DJs - whom she often woos into spinning on the Net.

Stone's database of DJs has 135 names, one of which belongs to spinner Ginger Vaughn. It was Stone who got Vaughn interested in Groovetech; she is determined to give female DJs equal time.

But, while Vaughn loves the work, she cites one drawback. The Groovetech booth, with two cameras focused on its DJ, looks out on constant activity. DJs see deliveries, scanning, stock-taking, comings and goings. But what they don't see is a dance-floor crowd.

"There's a huge audience listening," says Vaughn, "but you can't feel them. So it can be awkward learning how to pace your set." Often, Groovetech DJs have just finished breakfast; or they come in sleepy after heavy lunches. Nevertheless, "the vibe" is always up to them.

Everyone else is far too busy.

"It's a sixteen-hour lifestyle," says Jenkins, "even at the weekend." Yet, like all his colleagues, he is committed to it. Those stacks of listener e-mail are translating into purchases. But, say the founders, that is not what keeps them going.

There is another motive all agree on, one shared by listeners such as Blanca, Ira, Bev and Barendt. "First and foremost," says Pember, "we believe in the music. Which means we're doing this primarily to serve the fans."

Across the room, Cunningham's lanky frame unfolds as he puts the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. "There's one kind of person I always hope will find us - and that's the kind of person I used to be. Someone growing up maybe 30 miles from any big city, stuck with Top Forty radio or has-been . . . rock."

"For them," he smiles, "we're the key to another world. A world where their passions matter. Not just here, but around the globe."

Groovetech can be found at www.groovetech.com