Verse/Chorus 1: Well, my name is a number / A piece of plastic film / And I’m growin’ funny flowers / In my little window sill / Dont you know I’m a 2,000 man  / And my kids, they just don’t understand me at all

V/C 2: Well my wife still respects me / I really misused her / I am having an affair / With the random computer / Don’t you know I’m a 2,000 man / And my kids, they just don’t understand me at all

Bridge: Oh daddy, proud of your planet / Oh mummy, proud of your sun / Oh daddy, proud of your planet / Oh mummy. proud of your sun / Oh daddy, your brain’s still flashin’ / Like it did when you were young  / Or do you come down crashin’ / Seeing all the things you’d done / All was a big put on

Oh daddy, proud of your planet / Oh mummy. proud of your son / Oh daddy, proud of your planet / Oh mummy. proud of your sun / Oh daddy, proud of your planet / Oh mummy. proud of your sun / Oh daddy, proud of your planet / Oh mummy. proud of your sun

Chorus: And you know who’s the 2000 man / And your kids they just won’t understand you at all

The late Keith Stevens Hertell III, my musical cohort and friend who died at age 25, introduced this song to me. Keith’s death left a huge hole in the world. Not a week passes that I don’t think about him.

Keith was the first person with whom I ever played music. I’ll never forget the snow day in February, circa 1985, when his mom dropped him off at my house. We really didn’t know each other that well. He had Synsonic Drums ™ under his arm and a cassette in hand.  I plugged my guitar through my red DOD distortion pedal into my Stadium 25 amp.  He plugged his Synsonic Drums into the amp’s other input. 

(Synsonic Drums & Red DOD Distortion Pedal)

For the next hour, Keith taught me how to play “Shout at the Devil” by Motley Crue.  He didn’t know how to play the guitar, but he understood the concept that if you move your hand up the neck, the sounds become higher.  And so, he patiently showed me, based on what his ears told him, what fret(s) my hand should be on with my power chords.  I hadn’t heard the song, but he sang through the chord changes along with the words, and I learned it on the spot.  He was amazed that I could learn so fast, and I was stunned that he could teach me the song by ear, sing like Vince Neil, and play the synsonic drums like a real drummer, all at the same time.  He was absolutely incredible at playing the drum machine live, even then.  When I pull out old tapes and listen to them, it’s absolutely staggering.

Our band together was called Even Stevens, named after his middle name and the word “even.” I always made fun of it, but it was cool. We had a blast. 

In addition to his rhythmic gifts, Keith loved any music with a great melody. He was a huge Kiss fan, and also loved musicals. He was the first person to play me the Sergeant Pepper album, walking me through song by song and pointing out cool harmonies.  Subsequently, I always had “my bands,” which tended to be more about instrumental playing and virtuosity (AC/DC, Hendrix, Zeppelin, the Stones, blues stuff like the Allmans and SRV), and he had his bands, which had catchy melodies, great visual appeal, and lots of raw energy (Alice Cooper, the Ramones, Priest, early Metallica). Keith was really into vocal harmonies, and I was always sad that I wasn’t much of a singer because I so wanted to harmonize with him. Still do. Once in awhile we’d forced each other to listen to the other’s bands, but we always bitched about it. He wrote some great songs himself. One lyric I remember went something like, “I walked into a forest pool with Rutherford B. Hayes / We talked about the stock exchange in France.” This was in high school. He had such a great imagination.

Damn, if Keith wasn’t the funniest, most talented person I ever met. I still get choked up and it’s been 12 years since he died.

So, where am I going with this? Oh, yes, the song “2000 Man,” which was first written and performed by The Rolling Stones on Their Satanic Majesties Request album of (1967). I didn’t hear that version until many years after I heard the Kiss version, sung by Ace Frehley. Of course, it was a song Keith wanted to do, and so it remained a staple of the Even Stevens set list for a long time. I always loved playing it. There was something to the structure of the song as composed by the Stones combined with the power-chord crunching by Ace Frehley that really worked. 

Nowadays, I keep the Stones’ version on my iPod because the power chords don’t suit me like they used to, but I still recall the feeling of playing the Kiss version when I’m listening to the Stones. No matter when it comes on, the song always makes me think about Keith, and that’s probably why I’ll never get rid of it. It’s a wonderful, poignant surprise every time it comes around.

Here’s the Kiss version (for Keith):