Four hours or so before he’s due onstage at Inglewood’s Kia Forum, Jacoby Shaddix lifts a steaming water bottle to his lips as he sits backstage in a plush leather armchair.

“On show days, I drink hot water to keep my voice lubed,” says the 48-year-old frontman of Papa Roach. “I’m very disciplined with my lifestyle — borderline monk status at this point. Discipline and obedience is like the new rebellion to me.”

The scene of middle-aged restraint was a contrast to the excess that greeted Papa Roach in 2000 when its song “Last Resort” exploded on the radio and MTV, propelling the band from small-town Northern California to a Grammy nomination for best new artist and to triple-platinum sales of its album “Infest.”

Twenty-five years after “Infest” came out, though, Papa Roach’s audience has endured thanks in part to Gen Z’s discovery of “Last Resort,” which never seems far from popping up in a TikTok video. On Spotify, where the song has been streamed more than 1.3 billion times, Papa Roach counts 13 million monthly listeners — more than Soundgarden, Alice in Chains or Smashing Pumpkins, to name three rock acts held in higher esteem a quarter-century ago by critics and tastemakers.

In January, the band — which also includes guitarist Jerry Horton, bassist Tobin Esperance and drummer Tony Palermo — released “Even If It Kills Me,” the lead single from an album expected to arrive later this year. Shaddix, who’s married and has three sons, looked back on “Infest” and talked about how it happened.

Q You were 23 years old in early 2000. What did you see yourself doing at 48?

A I’ll tell you this: We put out our first full-length in 1997 called “Old Friends from Young Years.” And the reason we titled it that was because we had this wild-ass dream that we wanted to do this for our entire life. So I’d like to say I dreamt of this moment. I did dream of it, but I wasn’t sure I was gonna get here.

Q Because the band would flame out, or you’d die, or what?

A Part of it was just the reality of the music business setting in and realizing how cutthroat it is — how tough it is to maintain relevance. We had years where our success was waning.

Q And now you’re in the middle of a comeback. Is that a word you’re comfortable with?

A I’m fine with it — “resurgence,” “comeback.”

Q Are you surprised that you’re playing arenas in 2025?

A It was always the goal, but the reality is surprising. ... Even at our hottest, we never did a headlining arena tour.

Q That’s weird to me.

A At the height of our career, we just kept supporting — for Eminem or Korn or Limp Bizkit — instead of seizing that moment for our own selves. They were paying us great, but it was totally a mistake. We should have gone, “No, we’re not gonna support you — we’re gonna go headline the arena.”

Q Though here you are now.

A Everything happens for a reason. Maybe I wasn’t ready for it at that time in my life. I’m just so grateful that we never packed it in and said, “We’re out.”

Q Ever get close?

A Every time I tour an album and I go home, I think it’s over. Then I’ll get back in the studio and we’ll write a batch of new songs, and I’m like, “This is sick — let’s go!” But I pride myself on the fact that I’m a family man, so it’s always hard to leave again.

Q Performing and parenting both require a ton of emotional energy.

A Dude, I’m plugged into the ultimate power source. When I get home, I’m exhausted. But being with my family — with people that I love and adore and admire — it’s recharging to me. A goal of mine was to not repeat the cycle of my family history. I came from a broken home, and I was just like, “This isn’t my path — I’m not gonna repeat this thing.” As passionate as I am about my music, I’m just as passionate about fatherhood.

Q As a dad, is your experience as a son always in your head?

A The best way I could explain it is that pouring myself into the relationship I’ve built with my boys is what heals the brokenness inside me. And so now I stand here, 48 years old, and I’m totally at peace with what I walked through in my life because I righted the situation. It’s just a rad place to be in. Even my old man — my biological father — I got peace with him. He asked me, “Do you forgive me?” I’m like, “Life’s too f— short, man — I ain’t trying to hold a grudge on you.”

Q “Infest” spoke to a generation of disaffected young men in a way that felt healthy. Today, the mood around angry young guys seems pretty bleak.

A I’m a firm believer that it starts at home. So I operate in a way that’s nurturing, and we’re very open-dialogue with the boys. They come to me about anything, and I’m like, “I can’t always say that I agree with the way you’re trying to live, but I got you.” The way that I approach the music has always been an open and honest conversation. If you look at the statistics in suicide, it predominately swings male — there’s an issue happening where men are really struggling. Part of it is that third spaces really dwindled through COVID, and we’re built for community.

Q Why do you think young men are drawn to a figure like Andrew Tate?

A Masculinity is a spectrum, and I think because it swung one way, it’s swinging the other way to an extreme. The whole thing of toxic masculinity — I mean, there is that out there, but not all masculinity is toxic. Let’s just be real with each other. Social media has become this thing where some voices get really loud, and so everybody goes, “Oh, that’s what masculinity is — that’s terrible.” F— off with that. We gotta toughen up a little bit. I think us as a people might have gotten a little too soft for a minute. Pulling up your bootstraps and spraying some tough on it is important.