Success Changes You (Into a 400-Foot-Tall Alien)
One of the reasons we love art is for its power to reflect the joys and horrors of daily life. The problem is that the further an artist moves from that life, the less the audience will respond to his or her work, and the more laughable the artist's attempts to relate to regular people will seem, because I'm just Jenny from the block.
Why was their early work so good? Because it was made by people like you. Why is the new album, well, not? For the same reason you don't run into George Lucas in the salad dressing aisle down at the shitty discount grocery store you shop at -- because extremely successful people live on a different planet (we call it $aturn), and the transmissions about ranch life that they beam to our pale blue dot are no longer relevant to us (at least until they go bankrupt and fall to Earth with an Inspiring Comeback Album).