I think that's the most adept explanation I've heard yet of the reason-for-being of pop music at its best, and it makes me sad in several ways:
A)  for myself, who retired for an important decade, depriving myself and those of you who care of the opportunity to create that kind of bond;
B)  for this generation of radio-listeners, who are deprived of the chance of a genuine connection with an artist by the genuine contempt that the industry in general has for your notion;
and C)  For the ways that we artists inevitably disappoint our audience/friends, by becoming
insular, snobbish, decadent, pompous, ungrateful, and cynical.

My big fave growing up was Lou Reed, whose music spoke to me more than anyone-- his blunt realism and eye for detail and what seemed like a kind of weary, unblinkered compassion for the cast-offs and the "freaks"...  Wierdly, his music gave me genuine comfort in ways I'll never be able to quite understand.    So I was saddened as I witnessed his retreat into a kind of B-list
sub-intellectual, a blowhard and egomaniac.
I'll always have a soft spot for him, but I'd have to keep an eye on the family silver, if you know what I mean.

Thanks for putting it into words for us.

db