That opening bass line. It’s thick, muddy, and feels like it’s being dragged through a swamp. If you grew up in the late nineties, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Loco by Coal Chamber wasn’t just a song; it was the definitive sound of a very specific, very weird moment in heavy music history.
Nu-metal was exploding. Everyone was trying to be the next Korn, but Coal Chamber felt different. They were spookier. Goth-adjacent. While other bands were rapping about high school bullies, Dez Fafara was screaming about being "loco" in a way that felt genuinely unhinged. It was messy. It was loud. Honestly, it was kind of terrifying to see on MTV at 2:00 AM.
The Spooky Kids of Los Angeles
Coal Chamber emerged from the L.A. scene when the Sunset Strip was finally shaking off the glitter of hair metal. They didn't want to be Mötley Crüe. They wanted to be something darker.
Meegs Rascón’s guitar tone on Loco is iconic because of how little it actually sounds like a guitar. It’s more of a percussive, mechanical grinding. He used a lot of slack-tuned strings to get that "rubber band" feel. When you pair that with Rayna Foss’s driving bass, you get a rhythm section that feels claustrophobic. It’s a sonic representation of a mental breakdown.
The song was the lead single from their 1997 self-titled debut. At the time, Roadrunner Records was becoming the powerhouse for "tough" music, and Loco was their calling card. It didn't have the polish of Linkin Park or the funk of Limp Bizkit. It was raw.
Breaking Down the Ice Cream Truck From Hell
You’ve probably heard the story about the music video. The ice cream truck. The weirdly intense staring.
The video, directed by Nathan "Karma" Cox, captures the era perfectly. It features a creepy ice cream man (played by the band's driver at the time) stalking the band members. It’s low-budget by today’s standards, but the jittery camera work and over-saturated colors made it a staple on Headbangers Ball.
The lyrics are sparse. "Steamroller, wheeling through my head." It’s not Shakespeare. It’s not trying to be. The repetition of the word "loco" works because Dez Fafara’s delivery is so rhythmic. He treats his voice like a snare drum.
Why Loco Still Matters in 2026
It’s easy to dismiss nu-metal as a cringey phase of the late nineties. People do it all the time. They point at the oversized pants and the dyed hair and laugh. But listen to Loco again.
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There is an urgency there that modern metal often lacks. Today’s production is too clean. Everything is snapped to a grid. Loco sounds like it’s about to fall apart at any second. That tension is what makes it a classic.
- The Influence on Darker Nu-Metal: Without Coal Chamber, you probably don't get the "spookier" side of bands like Mudvayne or even the aesthetic of early Slipknot.
- The Vocal Style: Dez’s "spoken-word-into-a-scream" transition became a blueprint for dozens of vocalists in the early 2000s.
- The Visuals: They brought a gothic, theatrical element to a genre that was mostly dominated by gym-shorts and baseball caps.
People forget how massive this song was in the club scene. Even if you weren't a "metalhead," Loco played at every alternative night in the country. It had a groove that made it danceable, which is the secret sauce of every successful nu-metal track.
The Gear and the Grime
If you’re a gear nerd, the "Loco" sound is a specific mix of mid-nineties tech and intentional abuse of equipment. Meegs notoriously used ESP guitars and Rivera amps, but the "secret" was the way he’d let the strings flop.
There wasn't a lot of overdubbing. What you hear is basically the band in a room. Producer Jay Baumgardner captured a very "dry" sound. There isn't much reverb on the drums. It’s right in your face. It’s dry, it’s brown, and it’s loud.
Dez has mentioned in several retrospectives—including interviews with Metal Hammer and Kerrang!—that the band was living in a state of constant chaos during that recording. They were broke, living in Los Angeles, and fueled by a "us against the world" mentality. You can hear that desperation in the recording. It’s not a happy song.
Addressing the Misconceptions
One thing people get wrong is that Coal Chamber was just a "Korn clone." While the influence is undeniably there (Korn basically invented the template), Coal Chamber had a much stronger ties to the 80s goth and industrial scenes.
They were listening to The Cure and Sisters of Mercy as much as they were listening to Pantera. This gave Loco a "coldness" that Korn’s more emotive, vulnerable music didn't have. Loco is aggressive, but it's also detached. It’s an observation of madness rather than a plea for help.
Another myth is that the band "hated" the song after they got bigger. While bands often get tired of their biggest hits, Dez Fafara has consistently kept Loco in the setlist for his various projects, including DevilDriver. He knows it’s the song that built his house.
How to Appreciate Loco Today
If you want to actually "get" why this song worked, don't listen to it on your phone speakers.
Put on a pair of decent headphones. Turn it up until the bass makes your ears itch. Notice how the drums don't follow a standard rock pattern. Mike Cox’s drumming is sporadic. He hits the cymbals like he’s trying to break them.
The "pull-me-in" bridge where the music drops out and it’s just Dez whispering? That’s the peak of 90s tension-building. It makes the final explosion of the chorus feel earned.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
To truly understand the legacy of Loco by Coal Chamber, you have to look at where the members went next. Dez Fafara’s transition into DevilDriver showed that the aggression in Loco was real—it wasn't just a gimmick for the nu-metal era.
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If you're a musician or a fan of the genre, here’s how to apply the lessons of this track:
- Embrace the "Ugly" Tone: Don't be afraid of a guitar sound that isn't pretty. Loco works because the tone is objectively harsh. In a world of perfect digital plugins, find something that sounds "bad" and make it work for you.
- Rhythm Over Melody: Not every song needs a soaring chorus. Loco proves that a hypnotic, rhythmic hook can be just as memorable as a pop melody.
- Visual Identity Matters: Coal Chamber understood that they needed a look to match the sound. Whether you love the "goth-metal" aesthetic or hate it, you remember it.
- Study the Dynamics: The "quiet-loud-quiet" formula is a cliché now, but Loco is a masterclass in how to use silence to make the noise feel heavier.
Loco remains a time capsule of 1997. It’s a reminder of a time when the mainstream was weird, loud, and a little bit dangerous. It’s the sound of a band that didn't care about being polished. They just wanted to be heard. And thirty years later, we're still listening.