Scores of songs explore the intricate landscape of love and breakups. The dissolution of a relationship is a well-trodden path in music, chronicling the challenges of ending things, navigating the aftermath, moving forward, and even the mundane details like who gets the pet. Gotye’s global hit, “Somebody That I Used to Know,” ventures into this familiar territory. However, while the melody is undeniably captivating and even hauntingly beautiful, a closer look at the Words To Song Somebody I Used To Know reveals lyrical content that can be deeply unsettling, particularly for those attuned to feminist or egalitarian perspectives.
The song unfolds as a narrative solely from a male viewpoint, detailing his perceived mistreatment by an ex-partner. His pain is palpable, and at first listen, he might even appear to be the victim. Listeners could be forgiven for initially feeling sympathy, were it not for the jarring self-centeredness underpinning his words and the overt gendered power dynamics he seems to expect.
He recounts feeling “so lonely” even when his partner was experiencing joy in their shared moments. In a revealing admission, he sings, “I’ll admit I was glad it was over…I don’t even need your love.” The breakup itself, according to his account, was not the source of his distress. Instead, his primary grievance stems from her unwillingness to remain friends. This expectation, in itself, is a telling demand. The audacity escalates when the female voice finally enters the song, midway through the track, delivering the 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 admission from the woman provides a crucial counter-narrative, suggesting his actions, possibly involving deception or infidelity – hinted at by “screwed me over” – were the catalyst for the relationship’s demise. His subsequent surprise at her reaction is, therefore, perplexing. While debates circulate about whether the female voice represents Gotye’s current or former girlfriend, the song’s construction strongly implies to the average listener that it is indeed THE woman from the relationship he laments.
His response to her accusation of “screwing” her over is dismissive and deflective: “But you didn’t have to cut me off. Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing.” This is hardly an adequate response to the weight of her statement. Ultimately, the man’s core resentment is being excised entirely from his former partner’s life and being relegated to someone who is now a stranger. This is the pivotal point where the listener might question his sincerity. He claims to have been unhappy in the relationship, seemingly mistreated her, yet he expects her to disregard her own emotional needs to accommodate his desire for continued contact – be it as friends, acquaintances, or something more transactional. The man portrayed in the song embodies self-absorption. He interrupts the woman’s perspective and conveniently ignores his own role in the relationship’s failure. Her need for a clean break is valid, yet in his eyes, she has “stooped so low” by enforcing this boundary. His reaction reveals an internalization of a sexual double standard and a hierarchical relationship model where male desires are prioritized over female needs.
The marginalization of her story, her perspective, and her feelings is further reinforced by both the lyrics and the accompanying music video. The video opens with a nude male figure (PG-rated), immediately establishing a sense of vulnerability. This visual, coupled with the man’s opening narrative, subtly inclines the viewer to sympathize with his perspective. As he sings with increasing intensity, he becomes painted with geometric shapes, gradually merging into the patterned wallpaper behind him. At the 2 minutes and 27 seconds mark in the 4-minute and 4-second song, a painted female figure, back to the camera, emerges from the same wallpaper. She too has been painted to blend seamlessly into the background.
At 2 minutes and 33 seconds, she finally begins to sing, moving closer to him and breaking free from the wall’s design. She looks directly at him, articulating her reasons for refusing friendship. Crucially, there is no full frontal shot of her face, nor does she ever look directly into the camera. This deliberate directorial choice reinforces a male gaze, framing the woman and her justifications as secondary, relevant only in their relation to the man. Furthermore, his narrative ultimately dominates; she recedes, slowly returning to her initial position. As she retreats, the paint is removed from her back, frame by frame, until she stands nude from the waist up. This visual deconstruction renders her vulnerable, objectified as desirable precisely when she is no longer under his control, and ultimately, erased from the frame as he concludes, “Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.”
Art, in all its forms, is open to diverse interpretations. However, a feminist analysis of “Somebody That I Used to Know” offers a vital and necessary reading. Why is this critical? Mainstream media is notorious for the objectification of women and their portrayal as sexual commodities. This song achieved massive global popularity. It topped charts across numerous countries and genres. As of March 8, 2012, its YouTube video had amassed over 198 million views. It was even covered by the popular television show Glee. By May 7, 2012, it had ascended into “YouTube’s All-Time Top 30.” People of all ages have listened to this song and watched its video. “Somebody That I Used to Know,” beneath its catchy exterior, subtly disseminates a patriarchal message, reinforcing harmful gender inequalities. If true gender equality is to become a reality, this pervasive message – in politics, media, and everyday social interactions – must be challenged and transformed.
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.
Featured image caption: Music video, Gotye, “Somebody that I used to know,” YouTube.
