Love, heartbreak, and the aftermath of relationships are timeless themes explored in countless songs across genres. Among these, Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used to Know” stands out, not only for its distinctive melody and global chart-topping success but also for the complex and often unsettling narrative it presents about a breakup. While undeniably catchy, a closer examination of “That I Used To Know Song” through a feminist lens reveals a troubling undercurrent of gendered power dynamics and patriarchal expectations that resonate deeply within popular culture. This analysis delves into the lyrics and visual elements of the song, unpacking its subtle yet pervasive message about relationships, blame, and the marginalization of female perspectives.
The song unfolds as a story primarily told from the male perspective, painting a picture of a man seemingly wronged and deeply wounded by his former partner. At first listen, one might even sympathize with the male narrator. He portrays himself as the victim, lamenting the end of the relationship and, more specifically, the perceived coldness of his ex-partner’s post-breakup behavior. However, peeling back the layers of his narrative reveals a disturbing self-centeredness and an adherence to traditional gender roles that are problematic from a feminist and egalitarian viewpoint.
He recounts feeling isolated even during moments of her happiness, singing lines like, “But you didn’t have to cut me off,” and “Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing.” These lyrics reveal a sense of entitlement and expectation that, despite the relationship’s end, he should remain a significant part of her life. Interestingly, he admits, “I’ll admit that I was glad it was over,” suggesting the breakup itself wasn’t the source of his distress. Instead, his grievance lies in her refusal to maintain a connection, a common expectation but not necessarily a healthy or justifiable one after a romantic parting. The crux of his complaint centers on her inability, or unwillingness, to prioritize his desire for continued contact over her own need for emotional space and closure. Not everyone is obligated to remain friends with former partners, and the very expectation that she should prioritize his feelings in this situation is indicative of a power imbalance.
The narrative takes a crucial turn when the female voice enters the song midway. Kimbra’s verse offers a contrasting perspective, revealing a history of manipulation and emotional harm. She sings, “Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over, part of me believing it was always something that I’d done.” This line exposes a pattern of behavior where the male narrator likely deflected blame and responsibility, leading the female partner to internalize fault for the relationship’s issues. The phrase “screwed me over” hints at deeper betrayals, potentially infidelity or emotional manipulation, providing context for her decision to create a clean break. Her words highlight the emotional toll of the relationship and the necessity of distancing herself for her own well-being. She continues, “But I don’t want to live that way reading into every word you say,” indicating a desire to escape a dynamic of constant analysis and self-doubt imposed by his actions and words.
In response to her implied accusations, his retort, “But you didn’t have to cut me off,” is strikingly inadequate. It completely evades accountability and dismisses the validity of her feelings and experiences. His focus remains solely on his own discomfort and perceived loss of access to her life. He seems to resent being relegated to someone she “used to know,” highlighting a sense of ownership and control that extends beyond the relationship itself. This reaction underscores the self-absorbed nature of his perspective. He appears oblivious to, or dismissive of, the reasons behind her need for a clean break, prioritizing his desire for continued connection – perhaps as friends, acquaintances, or even something more casual – over her emotional needs and boundaries.
The lyrics alone paint a concerning picture, but the music video for “that i used to know song” further amplifies these problematic themes through visual representation. The video opens with Gotye, nude from the waist up, symbolizing vulnerability. This initial depiction encourages viewer empathy towards his perspective. As he sings his verse, he is progressively painted with geometric patterns, seamlessly blending into the backdrop. This visual metaphor can be interpreted as him becoming consumed by his own narrative, losing individuality within his self-constructed victimhood.
Kimbra’s introduction into the video is delayed and visually subordinate. Emerging from the patterned wall over two minutes into the song, she is initially painted to match the background, suggesting a lack of individual agency and an initial conformity to his established narrative. When she finally sings, the camera angles and framing consistently prioritize Gotye. There are no direct, full-face shots of Kimbra looking directly at the camera. Her gaze is directed at Gotye, reinforcing the idea that her perspective is secondary and only relevant in relation to him and his feelings. This visual choice embodies the “male gaze,” objectifying Kimbra and minimizing the importance of her voice and experience.
As Kimbra finishes her verse and steps back, the paint is gradually removed from her body, frame by frame, until she is also nude from the waist up. This visual stripping away can be interpreted in multiple ways, but within a feminist analysis, it can be seen as a symbolic rendering of her vulnerability and objectification. Stripped bare and exposed after articulating her pain, she is then visually dismissed as Gotye concludes the song with “Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.” The final image reinforces the male perspective as dominant and lasting, while the female voice and perspective are literally erased from the visual and narrative landscape.
“Somebody That I Used to Know” achieved phenomenal global success, permeating popular culture through radio airplay, viral video views, and even a cover on the television show Glee. This widespread appeal makes a critical feminist analysis all the more crucial. The song’s seemingly innocuous portrayal of heartbreak subtly reinforces patriarchal norms by centering the male perspective, minimizing female agency, and perpetuating the idea of male entitlement in relationships and their aftermath. The normalization of such messages in popular music contributes to a broader cultural landscape where gender inequalities are often subtly upheld and reinforced. To move towards genuine gender equality, it is imperative to critically examine and challenge these ingrained messages within media and popular culture, fostering a greater understanding of diverse perspectives and experiences in relationships. “That i used to know song,” despite its catchy tune, serves as a potent example of how popular music can inadvertently perpetuate harmful gender dynamics, demanding critical engagement and feminist critique.
