Love, heartbreak, and the aftermath of relationships are timeless themes in music. Countless songs explore the rollercoaster of emotions that come with breaking up, from the initial sting to the long journey of moving on. Gotye’s 2011 global phenomenon, “Somebody That I Used to Know,” delves into this territory with an undeniably catchy melody and a striking music video. However, beneath its popular appeal, the song’s lyrics present a narrative that, when viewed through a feminist lens, reveals uncomfortable truths about gender dynamics and power imbalances in relationships. This analysis will explore why, despite its widespread acclaim, “Somebody That I Used To Know Song” warrants a critical feminist examination.
The Male Narrative: Self-Pity and Entitlement in “Somebody That I Used to Know”
The song unfolds primarily from a male perspective, voiced by Gotye, portraying a man grappling with the end of a relationship. At first listen, one might even sympathize with his apparent pain. He laments feeling “so lonely” even when his partner was happy, confessing, “I’ll admit I was glad it was over,” and declaring, “I don’t even need your love.” The breakup itself, according to his lyrics, isn’t the source of his anguish. Instead, his frustration stems from his ex-partner’s refusal to remain friends. This expectation, common yet often problematic, takes a particularly unsettling turn as the song progresses.
The listener is drawn further into the male perspective, potentially overlooking the inherent entitlement in his desire for continued access to his ex’s life, even after the relationship’s demise. The song takes a crucial shift when Kimbra’s voice enters, offering a glimpse into the woman’s perspective.
The Silenced Female Voice: Marginalization in Lyrics and Song Structure
Midway through “Somebody That I Used to Know song,” Kimbra delivers the pivotal lines: “Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over, part of me believing it was always something I’d done. But I don’t want to live that way reading into every word you say.” This brief but powerful verse drastically alters the narrative. It suggests a history of mistreatment, possibly involving betrayal or manipulation (“screwed me over”), forcing the listener to reconsider the male narrator’s victim stance. The woman’s words reveal a past where she questioned herself and her perceptions, highlighting a potentially controlling dynamic within the relationship.
Yet, the male response to this revelation is dismissive and self-centered: “But you didn’t have to cut me off. Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing.” He evades any acknowledgment of his potential wrongdoing, focusing solely on his resentment at being excluded from her life. This reaction exposes a deep-seated self-absorption. He seemingly wants to maintain a connection on his terms, disregarding the woman’s need for a clean break and emotional distance after being “screwed over.” His indignation at being treated as if their relationship “was nothing” rings hollow considering his earlier admission of being “glad it was over.” The lyrics subtly reveal a patriarchal expectation: that even after a breakup, the man’s desires for contact and validation should supersede the woman’s needs for healing and closure.
Visualizing Patriarchy: Feminist Interpretation of the Music Video
The music video for “Somebody That I Used to Know song” further reinforces this feminist critique through its visual language. It begins with Gotye, nude from the waist up, standing against a painted wall. Nudity, often associated with vulnerability, initially frames him as the exposed and wounded party. As he sings, he is progressively painted with geometric patterns, blending him into the background, visually representing his emotional blending or perhaps his sense of being lost in the breakup.
Two minutes and 27 seconds into the video, Kimbra appears, also painted, emerging from the wall. Significantly, her back is to the camera, and she is visually part of the “background” initially, mirroring the lyrical marginalization of her voice. When she finally sings at 2 minutes 33 seconds, she moves closer to Gotye, delivering her perspective with directness. However, the camera never fully frames her face directly looking into the camera. This reinforces a sense of the “male gaze,” presenting the woman and her reasons as secondary to the man’s experience. Her purpose within the visual narrative seems primarily to react to and exist in relation to him.
Crucially, the video concludes with Kimbra stepping back to her original position, and the paint gradually disappearing from her body until she stands nude from the waist up, mirroring Gotye’s initial state but now carrying a different connotation. Stripped bare, she is visually rendered vulnerable just as the song concludes with Gotye’s final, possessive line, “Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.” The visual narrative culminates in her vulnerability and removal from the frame, while his perspective remains the dominant, lasting impression. The video subtly reinforces the patriarchal theme of male dominance and female disposability within the relationship narrative.
The Broader Impact: Why This Feminist Reading Matters for “Somebody That I Used to Know Song”
“Somebody That I Used to Know song” achieved immense popularity, topping charts globally and amassing hundreds of millions of views on YouTube. Its widespread appeal underscores the importance of critically analyzing its message. Media, especially popular music, plays a significant role in shaping cultural norms and reinforcing societal expectations about gender. The song’s subtle yet pervasive patriarchal message, embedded within a catchy and seemingly relatable breakup narrative, risks normalizing unequal power dynamics in relationships.
By presenting a male perspective that prioritizes male feelings and expectations while marginalizing the female voice and experience, “Somebody That I Used to Know” inadvertently perpetuates harmful gender stereotypes. A feminist analysis is not about dismissing the song’s artistic merit but about recognizing and unpacking its underlying message. Understanding these subtle patriarchal narratives in popular culture is crucial for fostering a more equitable understanding of relationships and challenging gender inequalities that persist in society. Only through critical engagement with media can we begin to dismantle these ingrained messages and move towards a more balanced and respectful portrayal of gender dynamics in art and life.
Suggested Readings:
Bordo, Susan. Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993.
Kemp, Sandra, and Judith Squires. Feminisms. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998.
Price, Janet, and Margrit Shildrick. Feminist Theory and the Body: A Reader. New York: Routledge, 1999.
Rose, Jacqueline. Sexuality in the Field of Vision. London: Verso, 1986.
