Aubrie Sellers has never mistaken volume for truth.
In a music industry that often rewards bold personalities and constant visibility, Sellers has built her career in a quieter, more deliberate way—one shaped as much by introspection as instinct. It hasn’t always been easy. But it has led her to Attachment Theory, a record that may be her most complete and revealing statement yet.
“I guess edgy for me means raw a little bit,” Sellers says. “So whether that’s emotionally raw or sonically raw…a lot of the music that I love…has that same kind of thread running through it, which I think is raw soul.”
That idea—rawness as a guiding principle—sits at the center of Attachment Theory. While the record leans more “dreamy” and sonically cohesive than her earlier “garage country” work, it never abandons the untamed elements she values: “It still has a lot of that electric guitar element and some of that wild, untamed guitar solos…that I love,” she says. “But raw too…that’s what it means to me.”
More than anything, though, Attachment Theory is emotionally raw. A concept album rooted in the psychology of relationships, it draws from Sellers’ own experiences navigating love, misperception, and self-awareness.
“I wrote all the songs on the Attachment Theory record, except for one,” she says. “And so there’s just a lot of myself in it as far as things I’ve learned and experienced through relationships. And that’s another way to be edgy and raw.”
The concept itself has been with her for years. Sellers first encountered attachment theory in her early twenties, reading about how early emotional patterns shape adult relationships. But it wasn’t until more recent experiences—particularly a difficult relationship with someone she describes as having a “dismissive avoidant attachment style”—that the ideas took on new urgency.
“The concept kind of happened organically,” she says. “I kept writing about the same thing and thinking about the same things. And that’s what the songs were about.”
Tracks like “Delusional” and “Mirage” explore the blurry line between hope and reality, especially in the early stages of love. “I think that’s common for everyone,” Sellers says. “To see the potential and not necessarily the reality of the situation.”
It’s a perspective she doesn’t distance herself from. If anything, she embraces it. “If you want to use an optimistic word, hopeful,” she says, “or not always seeing things clearly.”
That emotional candor extends beyond the album itself. Sellers has paired the release with a solo podcast—also titled Attachment Theory—where she unpacks the personal experiences behind each song.
“I’m not a therapist or a psychologist,” she says. “So it’s more like talking to your…interested and curious friend.” Still, the response has surprised her. “I get almost more excited when people say they connect with the podcast…because it’s something I’ve never done.”
The project, taken as a whole, reflects an artist leaning into vulnerability—not as performance, but as process.
That approach is especially evident in “Little Rooms,” one of the album’s most evocative tracks. For Sellers, the song is as much about sound as it is about story.
“I was imagining…the production and the guitars and steel…getting kind of progressively scarier and weirder as the song goes on,” she says, “to match the lyrics, and how that’s happening as you get further and further in a relationship with someone and learn the scarier things about them.”
It’s a telling insight into how she works. Though she values songwriting, Sellers is quick to point out where she feels most alive creatively.
“My favorite part of making music is being in the studio,” she says. “I like it more than the writing…more than playing the songs live. I love creating in the studio.”
That instinct—to build, shape, and refine—has been with her since the beginning. Sellers’ earliest musical memories are less about ambition than immersion: record stores, cassettes, and a wide-ranging curiosity that took her from Michael Jackson to big band vinyl.
“I’ve kind of gone through all the phases,” she says. “CDs, cassettes…Napster and LimeWire…now I stream like everybody else.”
Along the way, certain artists left a deeper imprint. She points to Buddy and Julie Miller, Patty Griffin, and the Robert Plant and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand as formative influences—records defined not just by songwriting, but by atmosphere.
“It has such a vibe to it,” she says of Raising Sand, “that…you’re not really consciously thinking about it, but it’s obviously doing something to you.”
That sensitivity to mood and cohesion carries into Attachment Theory, which Sellers describes as a more unified listening experience than her previous albums.
“It feels like something that is one distinct experience,” she says. “A more one singular moment.”
If that clarity feels hard-won, it’s because it is.
Sellers’ last album, Far From Home, arrived in February 2020—just before the pandemic upended the music industry. Touring plans vanished overnight. Momentum stalled.
“It was such a strange year,” she says. “All my touring got canceled and everything.”
Even moments of recognition—Americana Award nominations, a placement on Yellowstone—felt muted by the circumstances. “It did kind of feel like it got lost in the mix,” she admits.
The disruption forced a reckoning. As an independent artist already navigating an evolving industry, Sellers began to question whether the path she was on was sustainable—especially given her own temperament.
“I’m a very introverted person,” she says. “And so a lot of the things I do for this job are very counterintuitive to me.”
She stepped away. Went back to school. Took a job outside of music. For the first time since she was a teenager, she experienced something like a “normal” life.
“It was an interesting period,” she says. “I learned a lot.”
What she learned, ultimately, brought her back—but on different terms. “When I did decide to come back…I need to structure the business side and the lifestyle side of it in a way that fits my personality more,” she says.
That shift has changed how she approaches everything from touring to social media. Once an “unwelcome invader,” online platforms became, in her mind, a way to connect without constant depletion.
“As someone who’s introverted,” she says, “that unlocked something for me.”
It wasn’t the only obstacle she’s had to overcome. Early in her career, Sellers struggled with intense stage fright—so severe that she sometimes cried before going onstage.
“I had horrible stage fright,” she says. “And it lasted for a long time.”
What ultimately helped wasn’t experience alone, but internal work—reframing performance as just one part of a larger day, rather than a defining moment.
“Now I’m eating, now I’m doing this…now I’m on stage, now I’m back off stage,” she says. “Just kind of making it not such a big event.”
That same philosophy—of de-escalation, of finding balance—runs through Attachment Theory. It’s an album that doesn’t try to resolve every tension, but instead sits with them, explores them, and, perhaps, understands them a little better.
Sellers knows the record may not be for everyone. Its themes are specific, its tone inward.
But she suspects that’s precisely the point.
“Sometimes,” she says, “the more specific something is…for some reason, the more it touches people and resonates with them.”
For an artist who has built her work on rawness—on leaving the edges intact—that kind of connection may be the most honest measure of all.
For story ideas and pitches, Brian D’Ambrosio may be reached at dambrosiobrian@hotmail.com
