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'Sexjazz' is the third studio album from Melbourne avant-soul vocalist Henry Manetta. A melismatic concoction of deep jazz thought, spatial blues and in-the-pocket soul fire, 'Sexjazz' is an album of songs that explore the gamut of human desire: The smouldering
extravagance of 'Stutter,' the gothic opulence of 'I Slept with the Damned' through to the sexually
electric 'The Beatnik Sighed.' It also includes Henry's gospel-fuelled duet with Clare Moore (The Moodists, Dave Graney) 'Who Knows Where The Time Goes.'


released February 11, 2009

Henry Manetta - vocals
Adam Rudegeair - Piano/Wurlizer/Synth/Marimba/Harmonies
Ron Romero - Saxophone
Adam Spiegl - Electric and Acoustic Bass
Scott Hay - Drums and Percussion

Clare Moore - Harmonies/Vibes/Percussion
Justin Ashworth - Synth Programming
Alex Taylor - Violin
String Arrangements - Adam Rudegeair


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Henry Manetta and the Trip Melbourne, Australia

Henry Manetta has been a soul freakster of the jazz scene for over 10 years. His unique vocal stylings are informed by Tim Buckley, Gil Scott-Heron and Nina Simone, then blasted to the cosmos through a Sun Ra lens.

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Track Name: Professional Lush
'Professional Lush' copyright 2008 Adam Rudegeair

Hi, your name is Alice.
You know what you are.
Take a swig from your royal chalice,
But I’m not paying for the minibar.
The Queen of Hooch,
You’re Royalty.
That’s what you used to say, and that used to mean something…
To me.

Stay up late, baskin’ in the moonshine.
Get a little thirsty, sip a little glass of wine,
Or two, I used to be enough for you, or so I thought,
But maybe that’s just who…
You are.

And you look so well,
Except for the cracks round your eyes,
And the loose in your lips, sinking ships, downing drips
From a bottle you sips, spit out the pips of your life,
Losing a grip on my wife.
When you open your hatch,
Don’t light a match.

This isn’t a tale of romance,
Your liquid lunch is all over your pants.
And on the couch we should be making babies on
Little lush babies
Babies we should be raising,
And speaking of raisin,
Have you seen your liver lately?

There’s trouble in your eyes,
A headful of haze and a mouthful of lies,
A bad alibi, can’t quite get dry,
Amber dreams are all you seem to dream anymore,
Open up the door, you sleepin on the floor

Didn’t make it to the bed
Booze is your butter and your bread,
Might as well be your blood,
Sip it, swill it, chew it like it’s cud
I wanna dry you out, hang you on the line
You’re not gonna take me down this time.

Drinking your lunch from a bottle you hid in the cupboard beneath the basin,
And with your socks,
We’re not the only thing that’s on the rocks
You stumble in the gutter, got the Thunderbird walk
You better get bright before they draw you…
In chalk.

And here’s the rub:
The good stuff ate through the bathtub.
You start so early you began yesterday,
Gotta make it last till your next payday.
Might be you last payday…

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