Body Parts and Flying Things

by A Halo Called Fred

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1.
Overture 00:07
2.
Brain 01:18
My brain, my brain. Why has it gone from whence it came? There it goes, wave to it! My brain: It's off to terrains where it can be insane. How lame! Come back Mr. Brain! If you come back, I'll buy you a... ??? (LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)
3.
Schmuck 01:56
YOU SCHMUCK, give me 70 bucks. If you don't give me that 70 bucks, I'm gonna have to hit you with my truck. So I asked your mom to give me the 70 bucks you owe. But she said no, so now I gotta blow your mom. So I asked your cat, and it said "meow meow meow" about that. That means no, with a big guitar solo. (LYRICS BY JIM BOB)
4.
Butt! 01:44 video
I totally look like, totally feel like, totally smell like, totally taste like butt. I totally am butt. Butt is a state of mind, not the mind of the state of confusion that borders Kentucky. Without it we couldn't move bowels or buildings. The build up would blow up. We couldn't eat food. The feeling is mutual. Sanity borders in retrograde motion. The buildup is blinding. The backlash is baffling me to no end. Why do I feel like I'm not in the mood? I totally want your, totally need your, totally smell your, totally taste your butt. I totally am butt. Butt is a place in my heart, not the heart of the place in my body that borders my back. Without it, we couldn't make mountains from molehills. We wouldn't get spankings. We wouldn't feel pain. The pain is unusual. Pleasantries border in retrograde chaos. Punishment happens in Freudian splendor, so why do I feel like I'm going insane? How can strive to be the best we can be when it seems the best we can be is butt? (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)
5.
ALIENS are flying inside my head and it hurts ow ow ow ow ow ow. Aliens are flying inside my head and it really really hurts ow ow. Aliens are flying round and round inside my head and it hurts ow ow ow ow. Aliens are flying inside my head and it hurts ow ow ow ow ow ow. (LYRICS BY GEVEREND)
6.
Interlude 00:23
7.
Bugs 01:45
Bugs are always happy Over here over there Happy cause they just don't even care If you could think just like a bug Then you'd just do just what you want And who would care about worries of any sort When you're a bug, life is just too short Bugs are always happy On the ground in the sky Bugs are just another guy Bugs could not ever go veggie Cause they eat stuff that you can't see They don't eat health food or cigarettes or drugs And even vegetarians like to kill bugs Bugs are always happy On the ground in the sky There is just no reason why (LYRICS BY BRUSHWOOD)
8.

about

The grungy psychedelic EP follow-up. Featuring an epic version of live staple BUTT!, two versions of Aliens with different stories, and Jim Bob's vocal debut on Schmuck.

credits

released January 1, 1995

Featuring Geverend (and his invisible friend Chester), Brushwood, Jim Bob.

All songs by A Halo Called Fred except track 6, which is not a song. Recorded by Norm DeMoura in Jim Bob’s fraternity basement.
Remixed by Brushwood, except original track 8 mix by Jason Martin.
Effects added by Geverend. Art by Brushwood.

Special thanks to Jeff Mach, WRSU Production, Wayne Clawans, and of course, your mom. We love you all.

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STATEMENT

Congratulations, music lover.

You have discovered the digital edition of Body Parts and Flying Things, the ­controversial new rock opera from the New Jersey supergroup, A Halo Called Fred. A work so inspirational, Chicago Sun Times film critic Roger Ebert has yet to find the words necessary to comment on its ­profundity.

Act 1 is the tragic tale of our hero’s decent from jubilation to despair, as his ­narcissistic tendencies and love of gravy fries lead him down the bungee paved road of desperation, as he discovers the flaws in the childhood repression of his psychosexual development. The act closes in a particularly moving scene in which he attempts to dye his hair plaid with a single packet of dye.

In Act 2, he tries to divide his real world from his fantasy world, and attempts to rebuild one of them (we don't know which) with Elmer's glue and popsicle sticks. The ­curtain falls as Isolde dies in his arms.

Melvin Toast, January, 1995

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A Halo Called Fred New Brunswick, New Jersey

The finest guitar, bass, violin, and Tupperware band in all of time and space, geek-rock legends for over 25 years.

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