Wally De Backer—the man the world knows as Gotye—didn't just release a song in 2011. He released a cultural earthquake. You remember the video. The body paint. The weirdly catchy xylophone riff that sounded like a nursery rhyme gone through a breakup. Somebody That I Used to Know dominated the airwaves, topped the Billboard Hot 100 for eight consecutive weeks, and eventually scooped up three Grammys. It was everywhere. It was inescapable. It was, frankly, exhausting for some people.
Then, he just stopped.
Usually, when a pop star hits that level of saturation, they double down. They release the "stadium tour" album. They judge a reality TV show. They pivot to a clothing line or start selling expensive candles. Gotye didn't do any of that. He basically became the very person he sang about: someone we used to know. People often assume he’s a "one-hit wonder" who ran out of ideas or got chewed up by the industry, but the reality is much weirder and, honestly, way more respectable.
The $5 Million Choice Nobody Makes
Most artists at his peak would have cashed in. Hard. We’re talking about a song that has billions of streams. But here is a fact that usually blows people’s minds: Gotye decided early on not to run ads on his YouTube channel. He didn't want his art preceded by a laundry detergent commercial. According to various reports and industry estimates, he walked away from at least $5 million in easy ad revenue from that one video alone.
He also refused to license the song for every random commercial that came knocking. You didn't hear Somebody That I Used to Know selling minivans or insurance. He treated the song like a piece of art rather than a commodity. That’s a move that feels almost alien in the modern creator economy where everyone is told to "monetize everything."
Wally isn't a "pop star" in the traditional sense. He's a crate-digger. A tinkerer. He’s the kind of guy who spends three weeks trying to find the perfect sound from a 1950s organ. When you look at the construction of his big hit, it’s actually a collage. That famous guitar riff? It’s a sample from a 1967 track called "Seville" by Brazilian guitarist Luiz Bonfá. He’s more of a sonic architect than a hit-maker, and once the building was finished, he just... moved on to the next project.
🔗 Read more: Jack Blocker American Idol Journey: What Most People Get Wrong
The Ondioline and the Mission to Save Sound
If you’re looking for where he’s been for the last decade, you won't find him in the Top 40. You’ll find him in a basement or a specialized studio surrounded by obsolete electronics. Specifically, he became obsessed with the Ondioline.
Wait, the what?
The Ondioline is a vacuum-tube electronic keyboard from the 1940s. It’s temperamental, rare, and incredibly difficult to play. It was a precursor to the synthesizers we use today. Instead of chasing another radio hit, Gotye spent years and significant amounts of his own money forming the Ondioline Orchestra. He became a preservationist. He dedicated himself to the legacy of Jean-Jacques Perrey, a pioneer of electronic music.
This wasn't a hobby. It was a deep, academic dive into the history of sound. He traveled the world to find these instruments and worked with technicians to restore them. To the average person who just wanted "Somebody That I Used to Know Pt. 2," this felt like he’d disappeared. To the experimental music community, he was doing some of the most important archival work in the industry. It’s a weird trade-off. Give up global fame to become the world’s leading expert on a forgotten French keyboard.
Most people would choose the fame. Wally didn't.
💡 You might also like: Why American Beauty by the Grateful Dead is Still the Gold Standard of Americana
The Basics (The Stuff You Forgot)
- He’s actually Belgian-Australian. Born in Bruges, moved to Melbourne when he was two.
- The name "Gotye" is a phonetic rendering of "Gauthier," the French version of Walter/Wally.
- Before the solo fame, he was (and still is) a member of the band The Basics. They play rock-and-roll, and he plays the drums.
- He actually toured with The Basics during the height of his solo fame. Imagine being the biggest pop star on earth and then just going back to being a drummer in a pub band.
Why the Song Still Stings
Music critics often talk about the "Gotye effect." Why did this specific song work when so many other breakup tracks fail? It’s the perspective. Most breakup songs are one-sided. One person is the victim, the other is the villain.
Somebody That I Used to Know changed the game by bringing in Kimbra for the second verse. Suddenly, the narrative flips. You realize the narrator (Gotye) might actually be the problem. He’s being "hung up on some somebody that he used to know," but she calls him out for being manipulative and rewriting history. It’s a three-minute psychological drama. That’s why it stuck. It felt like a real, messy, adult conversation rather than a polished pop anthem.
The irony is that the song’s legacy has outlived the artist’s desire to be famous. It’s a staple of "2010s nostalgia" playlists, but the man himself is busy launching a record label called Forgotten Futures. The label’s goal isn’t to find the next Justin Bieber; it’s to release "lost" music and promote instruments that have fallen out of favor.
Is He Ever Coming Back?
The short answer is: he never left, he just changed rooms.
He’s worked on film scores. He’s collaborated with artists like Bibio and various underground experimentalists. There have been rumors of a fourth Gotye studio album for almost eight years now. Every few years, an update trickles out. He’s working on it. He’s perfecting it. He’s looking for a specific sound.
📖 Related: Why October London Make Me Wanna Is the Soul Revival We Actually Needed
But here’s the thing about being an independent artist with a massive bank account from one historic hit: you don't have to answer to a label. There is no executive breathing down his neck asking for a "radio edit." That freedom is a blessing for the artist, but a curse for the fans. He is an obsessive perfectionist. If the record isn't exactly what he hears in his head, it’s not coming out.
Honestly? We should probably stop waiting for a "return to form." Gotye isn't interested in being a pop star anymore. He’s an enthusiast. A collector. A drummer. A historian.
How to Actually Follow His Work Now
If you want to keep up with what he's doing, don't check the Billboard charts. That’s a dead end. Instead:
- Follow The Basics. They still release music and play shows, though they take frequent breaks.
- Look into Forgotten Futures. This is his label, and it’s where his heart is currently—preserving the history of electronic music.
- Search for the Ondioline Orchestra performances. It’s not pop, but it’s fascinating if you’re into the technical side of how music is made.
- Listen to his 2003 and 2006 albums, Boardface and Like Drawing Blood. Most people only know the big one, but his earlier stuff is a masterclass in sampling and mood.
The story of Gotye is really a story about the price of fame. Some people pay it and keep paying it forever. Others, like Wally, see the bill, pay it once, and then walk out the door to go do something they actually care about. There’s something incredibly cool about that. He didn't fade away because he failed; he faded away because he won the game and decided he was done playing.
Actionable Insights for Music Fans
Stop equating "silence" with "failure." When an artist disappears, they are often doing their most intense work. If you find yourself missing that 2011 sound, go back and explore the discography of Kimbra or the production work of François Tétaz. They were instrumental in that era's sound. More importantly, support artists who prioritize the preservation of musical history—they are the ones making sure the tools of the craft don't disappear into a dumpster.