Platform perspective from the Shaun Jacobs Band

Being let into the inner sanctum guarantees the rock & roll dream – a dressing-room kitted out according to ridiculous specifications, groupies lined up down the passage, private Zen gardens in which to meditate…

Or not.

Shaun Jacobs and his band, a support act for Nickelback on their recent South African tour, are quartered in a drywall cubby-hole called “Storage Room B”. The only sign of the international rockstars is a board set up to be the backdrop for the photographs of a meet–and–greet later in the evening. The room boasts a couple of tables, a couple of couches, a standing lamp or two and a rather noisy bar fridge, half-filled with bottles of vitamin water.

Songer and guitarist Jacobs, bassist Craig Sparks and drummer Andrew Sowter are milling about, apparently relaxed, though the tendency to occasionally fidget with something – the battery in a guitar pick-up; the look of a knotted tie, hung just so around Sowter’s neck; a cellphone that’s plugged in and charging – suggests some nervous energy.

A stage-hand comes in and checks whether anyone has been organised to announce the band before they go onstage, then gives them a 45-minute warning and scampers off. What remains to be done?

“We’ll start with a full vocal warm-up,” says Jacobs, “then run through the riffs and maybe say a prayer together.

“The main thing is to try and relax. So far we’ve just been excited, not scared.”

The band’s previous show might have been in a club. This one’s in a huge arena. Has that impacted the way they’ve been treated?

“You take what you get,” muses Jacobs.

“Big Concerts have been great to us, though we’re learning that at this level there’s another whole kind of admin to go through. If you want to get a pass for someone, for instance, you need to jump through a million hoops to get it because of the security.”

Jacobs is interrupted as a Nickelback roadie places an iPod and speaker just outside the door, blasting some heavy rock tunes – presumably to help get his employers in the mood ahead of the meet–and–greet. The “Storage Room B” door is wedged open by some wires, so conversation becomes impossible until someone figures out that if the door is lifted, it can be yanked closed.

Jacobs’s videographer is visibly relieved. He’s there to capture some of the activity so that the band can share the experience with their fans, and is trying to wangle the lamps into a formation that allows him enough light to interview Jacobs without the singer appearing to be little more than a hirsute blob in the darkness.

Sparks opens a toolkit packed with every kind of battery imaginable, checking it over one last time as a roadie asks, “Where are we going to watch Nickelback from after we’re done?”

Jacobs doesn’t answer. He, Sparks and Sowter have begun humming and crooning as they warm up their voices. They continue these exercises as they wander around, shrugging on jackets, tuning guitars and watching as their crew sets up a couch and lights as an appealing backdrop for photographs and interviews.

With just a few minutes to go, they wind up and give their voices free reign, hitting a loud, clear, three-part harmony that makes everyone stop what they’re doing to turn and look.

They’re ready.