THE VAULT BUNDLE — AFTER DARK

“Silk and Whiskey”

Step into a 1940’s jazz club with the sultry opening hum of “Silk and Whiskey,” accompanied by a suggestive saxophone and a coy piano that plays a game with the first few playful notes. The lights are dim, and the silhouette on stage moves her hips in time with the music in a way that lets you know she knows exactly what she’s doing. This is Sienna, your guide, temptation, and femme fatale for the night.

She’s going to take you on a journey where she herself is simultaneously the driver, the soft, curved, winding road, and the elusive destination. And don’t get any ideas about taking the wheel—that’ll earn you a one-way ticket back to Lonelyville. Do yourself a favor and close your eyes for a few moments and just listen—listen to that heavenly voice that’s in absolute control as it slides effortlessly up and down the scale.

Now open your eyes.

Suddenly you’re not in a ’40s nightclub—you’re in a movie so daring that the Hays Code would shut it down before it ever finished filming—because you’re not just watching an imaginary, seductive silhouette in your mind; you’re seeing the woman herself as she serenades you with the song that’s going to keep you up all night in more ways than one. Tantalizing lingerie; loose, white silk shorts and a flimsy tank top; red lace bra and panties; a black negligee—the outfit changes every few lines, because Sienna knows exactly what you want, and she’ll give you just a taste of it—not for you, don’t be crazy—but for her. And if you were smart enough to buy the After Dark edition . . . well, let’s just say you’d better be watching with the door closed.

Ultimately, “Silk and Whiskey” is—musically—a time machine that takes you back to a lost era and—visually—a modern power play by a woman so confident in what she’s giving you—and how much you want it—that even though she’s the one on camera, she knows you’re the one getting exposed.


“Backseat Confessions”

This time Sienna brings you right into where you want to be, and where you never thought you'd get to—in the car with her on a rainy night. And this song . . . it’s different. Because it’s not just a temptation and a warning like “Silk and Whiskey”—it’s an express invitation: “Be here with me. Desire me. Want me. It’s okay, because I want you too. We’re together.” Most of us won’t get lucky enough to experience that firsthand, but “Backseat Confessions” takes you into the middle of the action . . . especially if you start with the poem—the poem so shocking, so deliciously explicit, you’ll blush before you remember you’re alone . . . and then you’ll do more than blush. Then when the song starts, you’ll remember who’s singing, and you’ll close your eyes just to hear her better . . . this time a breathy, whispered secret, punctuated by a few, shall we say, climactic moments.

And you’re a fool if you forget the ride-alongs. There’s nothing subtle here, none of the teasing of “Silk and Whiskey”—just (almost) everything you want, as soon as you want it, and it’s intoxicating because Sienna seems to want it too—those eager hands, that stare into the camera—incredibly, she’s not just daring you . . . she’s asking you. And you know, and she knows, what your answer is.

“Backseat Confessions” is a secret you get the privilege of being a part of, written and sung by an artist who’s just as much art as what she creates, and because of that, you might feel a momentary urge to share it and give her her due . . . but no one will be surprised if you keep it to yourself. Just you and her.