Introduction

The term "pirate radio," as it relates to broadcasting, refers to audio feeds, such as KLOKi Radio's, being transmitted without a valid FCC license or permit. In most cases, because the power output and range are so low, KLOKi Radio can broadcast without attracting the attention of the FCC. It's comparable to going to a drive-in theater and tuning in to an FM radio station to hear the movie.

"Pirate radio" also carries a second meaning in the context of KLOKi Pirate Radio. The station's programming primarily features new music created by independent or unsigned artists: music that is freely available across all major streaming platforms. All broadcasts are made under the protections of Section 107 of the Copyright Act.

The First Amendment of the United States Constitution explicitly prohibits the government from "abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press." Yet, in 1934, Congress passed the Communications Act, an undeniable infringement on these freedoms. Under the guise of regulation, this legislation effectively monopolized radio communications, prioritizing corporate interests over the rights of individuals. Over time, the Act has only been reinforced through additional laws, further tightening government control over the airwaves. Despite the countless rules and regulations that have stemmed from it, every aspect of the Communications Act remains in direct violation of the First Amendment when applied to individual rights. It's akin to the government allowing citizens to own a printing press but prohibiting them from distributing their flyers anywhere beyond their own homes.

History

KLOKi Radio, originally known as KLOK the Rock Clock, is the brainchild of Chadrick "Chaz" Chaseton Choate (nom de plume). His journey into radio began at just nine years old when he built his first playback studio using salvaged stereo equipment his mother brought home from the local Salvation Army. Between the ages of 9 and 12, Chaz spent countless hours tinkering with electronics, repairing and repurposing audio gear. His passion for broadcasting took a major leap forward in 1978, when, at the age of 12, he acquired his first CB radio. Eager to share his voice over the airwaves, he began transmitting on citizen bands, only to face hostility from seasoned CB users who jammed his signal. Undeterred by the setback, Chaz turned his focus to AM/FM radio broadcasting.

At 13, tragedy struck when Chaz lost his father to a drunk driver. Overcome with grief, he withdrew to his bedroom, seeking solace in the world of radio entertainment. That summer, he stumbled upon a DIY AM transmitter kit in an electronics magazine and built his own station, broadcasting hard rock and heavy metal to his neighbors. By the fall of 1979, he had expanded his reach, transmitting on both AM and FM frequencies. By the spring of 1980, Chaz had fully transitioned to FM, broadcasting at 96.5 FM at Wheeler Village in Missoula, Montana, laying the groundwork for what would eventually become KLOKi Radio.

Throughout high school, Chaz recorded his live radio program, Such Wind America, first on cassette tapes and later on CDs. He distributed copies in the hallways and parking lots of Missoula's four high schools: Hellgate, Sentinel, Big Sky, and Loyola Sacred Heart. The program criticized what he described as political control and the indoctrination of youth through public education.

In 1984, members of the Montana Militia began encouraging him to promote the concept of free state citizenship. On air, Chaz urged listeners to declare their signatures and contractual agreements with the state null and void, including birth certificates, Social Security cards, driver's licenses, state identification cards, insurance policies, and vehicle registrations. Some followers acted on these claims, and several were later ticketed for driving on public roads without legally recognized documentation.

In January 1985, Chaz appeared on the front page of the Missoulian, which referred to him as "the bedroom broadcaster" and Missoula's next Ted Turner. Local radio stations challenged him publicly, asserting that some of the equipment visible in the accompanying photograph belonged to them and that he did not have authorization to use it. Chaz maintained that the equipment had been provided by a radio station in Wisconsin. During trial proceedings, witnesses from Wisconsin testified that they had supplied the equipment.

After two trials, Chaz was convicted under Montana's theft statute and sentenced to 30 years in prison. At sentencing, the court cited his "ability to communicate and manipulate the community as a whole." In 1987, he entered Montana State Prison and began what would become a 21 year stretch behind bars, much of it under maximum security conditions among inmates serving time for violent crimes.

Prison marked a profound turning point. Rather than retreat inward, Chaz redirected his intensity toward education and leadership. He earned his GED and continued on to college coursework, using study as both discipline and escape. Over time, he became deeply involved in prison governance. He served as an inmate representative on the Inmate Council and the Inmate Welfare Fund, advocating for programs and resources that benefited the broader prison population. He also acted as secretary for the Prayer Warriors, a Native American cultural and spiritual group within the institution.

His influence expanded when he became editor of the prison newspaper, The Siberian Express. Through writing and organizing, he developed a reputation as someone capable of navigating both inmate concerns and institutional bureaucracy. Eventually, his work led to an appointment on a special advisory committee convened by Governor Marc Racicot to examine reforms within the Montana Department of Corrections. For a man once condemned for his ability to influence others, he was now being asked to help shape policy from within the system.

After serving enough time to qualify for community placement, Chaz was transferred to a pre-release center in Butte, Montana. There, he began collaborating with Ben Davis on the development of an electronic home and business security system designed to prevent tampering. The project reflected his ongoing interest in systems, control, and protection.

Yet the transition proved unstable. Without authorization, Chaz left the Butte Pre-Release Center and traveled to Great Falls, Montana. In preparation for an attempted escape into the mountains, he broke into Big Bear Sports to obtain survival gear. The effort was short lived. He was apprehended and convicted of burglary, theft, and criminal mischief, receiving additional prison time.

He would later describe those years as among the most troubling of his life, marked by confusion, isolation, and despair. What had begun as a story of transformation became, once again, a struggle between impulse and consequence.

Even before his incarceration, Chaz's involvement in pirate radio and his appearance on the front page of the Missoulian had generated intense media attention. His name and image were repeatedly published in newspapers, featured in television broadcasts, and discussed on radio stations throughout Montana. The publicity transformed him from a local provocateur into a widely recognized and polarizing figure.

Shortly after he entered prison, the film Pump Up the Volume went into production was then released. The story closely paralleled elements of his own, centering on a rebellious teenage radio broadcaster challenging authority from within a small town. Many Montanans viewed the film as a Hollywood adaptation of Chaz's life, though the setting was changed to a fictional town in Texas rather than Missoula, Montana. The comparison further amplified public fascination with his case and deepened the mythology surrounding his name.

After serving his term to parole eligibility, Chaz was released to Great Falls, Montana, where he enrolled in college courses on campus. Freedom, however, did not bring the sense of renewal he had imagined. He later described the experience as intensely lonely. The notoriety surrounding his case followed him, and the lingering attention left him with little sense of privacy. Wherever he went, he carried the weight of his past.

Gradually, he retreated into what had once defined him. He returned to pirate radio, constructing a new studio inside his college apartment. Not long afterward, he was accused of breaking into a community center and was arrested on charges of burglary, theft, and criminal mischief. Prosecutors struggled to substantiate the allegations, but he was nevertheless held in the Great Falls County jail while the case proceeded.

While in custody, Chaz attempted another escape. He made it out of the jail yard but ran directly into the Missouri River. The river was too wide and swift to cross, and he was quickly apprehended.

Facing the possibility of an escape conviction that would have placed him in maximum security at the state prison, he made a calculated decision. To avoid that outcome, he pleaded guilty to the underlying charges. It was a pragmatic choice, one shaped less by admission than by a determination to avoid returning to the harshest conditions he had known.

After being returned to Montana State Prison, Chaz was transferred to a private correctional facility in Texas in 1996 to serve the remainder of his sentence. He was housed at the Dickens County Correctional Center in Spur, Texas, which was managed at the time by the Bobby Ross Group. The move placed him far from family and familiar surroundings.

He later described the conditions there as severe and volatile. Because of his prior involvement in prison governance in Montana, he believed his life was in danger among the inmate population. Shortly after arriving, he carried out what he would later call the most daring act of his life. He escaped from inside the facility, slipping through razor wire, evading alarm systems, and running for nearly 20 miles across open terrain.

According to his account, armed posses pursued him through the Texas landscape. He said he felt hunted and later learned from family members that prison officials had allegedly issued a shoot to kill order if he were located. Whether rumor or reality, the belief reinforced his conviction that surrender was not an option.

Chaz remained free for more than a decade. During that time, he traveled throughout the United States and immersed himself in emerging internet technologies. Largely self taught, he learned HTML and Perl programming, skills he used to build SheilaStagner.com and ElephantButteCOC.com. At the time, both sites were described locally as among the most technologically advanced websites in New Mexico.

In 2002, he launched KindRideShare.net, an early online ride sharing platform created years before such services became mainstream. The project reflected both his technical growth and his continued interest in building alternative systems outside traditional structures.

In 2007, he voluntarily turned himself in to authorities. What followed was a prolonged bureaucratic struggle. For approximately two years, he sought transfer back to Montana State Prison, while Montana officials maintained that Texas was responsible for arresting and transporting him. The jurisdictional dispute significantly delayed his return.

Once back in Montana, he was placed in long term isolation. He spent the next 12 and a half years in segregated confinement before his release in 2019.

While incarcerated, Chaz was described by prison officials as a model inmate who did not present a management problem. His continued placement in maximum security was characterized as a precautionary measure intended to prevent future escape attempts and to address concerns related to his high profile status as a notorious prisoner.

After his release, Chaz successfully completed an intensive period of parole supervision in Missoula, Montana. Upon satisfying those requirements, he was encouraged to leave the state. In 2020, he relocated to Colorado to care for his ailing mother, remaining at her bedside in an ongoing commitment that continues today.

Radio, the medium that had shaped much of his life, resurfaced once again. He launched KLOKi Radio as a hobby project and has continued developing it ever since. In time, the venture expanded beyond online broadcasting, and he began focalizing and emceeing large public concerts, including events held at Denver Skatepark.

Trailblazing into the future of radio

As a passionate pirate radio broadcaster and innovative trailblazer, I'm always eager to explore new ideas and develop solutions that enhance radio entertainment and its reach. In this discussion, I want to highlight what I believe is the future of radio entertainment and how it benefits both musicians and listeners within the hard rock, heavy metal, metalcore, grindcore, crust punk, and rap metal genres. With technology constantly evolving and the FCC pushing for the digitalization of FM radio, the shift from traditional broadcasting to online streaming seems inevitable, and I'm here to explain why.

Pirate Radio, the Future of Broadcasting, and Why Heavy Music Needs It

As a pirate radio broadcaster, I live and breathe this craft, not just for the thrill of defying the norm, but because I believe in the power of independent radio. I'm not here to play it safe; I'm here to push boundaries, explore new ideas, and create a future for radio free from corporate control and government interference. And let's be real, that future is online.

With technology evolving and the FCC pushing to digitalize FM radio, the shift from traditional airwaves to online streaming isn't just possible, it's inevitable. The way people consume music has changed. FM radio, once the dominant force in audio entertainment, is now struggling to stay relevant in a world where listeners demand more variety, freedom, and accessibility. For fans of heavy metal, hard rock, and crust punk, genres that have always thrived on rebellion, this shift is not just necessary; it's a matter of survival.

Traditional FM Radio is Dying, Here's Why

Corporate FM stations have long been hostile to heavy music. They recycle the same classic rock hits, occasionally toss in some commercial hard rock, and call it a day. Extreme metal? Hardcore punk? Forget it. Unless you're tuning into a college station or a niche local broadcaster, good luck hearing anything that pushes boundaries. Online streaming, however, shatters those chains. It returns power to the underground, where the real music lives.

Then there's the issue of FCC censorship. Traditional radio is bound by strict content regulations, no profanity, no controversial themes, and certainly no room for the raw, aggressive energy that defines heavy music. Streaming radio eliminates those barriers. No more bleeped-out lyrics, no more watered-down playlists, just pure, unfiltered sound.

And let's talk about reach. FM signals are limited by geography. Your station might dominate the local scene, but what about the rest of the world? Online radio knows no borders. Whether you're running a DIY punk station from a basement or a global metal broadcast, streaming allows you to connect with listeners everywhere, people who crave the kind of music mainstream radio ignores.

Why the Underground Needs to Go Digital

It's not just about breaking free from FM's limitations; it's about survival. The music industry has already gone digital. Bands release albums on Bandcamp and Spotify long before considering physical media. Fans are discovering new music on YouTube and curated playlists, rather than waiting for some corporate radio exec to decide what's worth playing. Independent radio must follow suit, or risk fading into obscurity.

Running an online station is also far cheaper and more accessible than maintaining an FM signal. No costly transmitters, no regulatory red tape, just a passion for music and an internet connection. This opens the door for more underground stations, greater variety, and more opportunities for independent broadcasters to amplify the voices of bands and scenes that would otherwise go unheard.

Let's be honest, who even carries a radio anymore? People listen to music through their phones, computers, and smart speakers. Streaming fits seamlessly into that lifestyle, making it easier than ever to tune in from anywhere, whether you're thrashing in your bedroom, skating through the streets, or drinking cheap beer in a parking lot before a show.

The Revolution is Already Here

FM radio isn't disappearing overnight, but its relevance is fading every day. The future belongs to those ready to embrace change. For fans of heavy metal, hard rock, and crust punk, that means breaking free from outdated systems and taking control of how we broadcast, discover, and share music.

That's exactly what I'm here to do. As a pirate radio broadcaster and innovator, I'm not just predicting this future, I'm building it. The underground has always thrived on independence, and online streaming is the next evolution of that spirit.

The question isn't whether FM radio will fade. It's whether we'll seize this moment to create something better. And I say we do.

How to connect online

Website: https://PirateRadioDenver.com

Stream: https://KLOKi.us

---