Talking Heads, con su estilo único y experimental, dejó una marca indeleble en la historia de la música. Fundada en 1975 en Nueva York, el grupo se destacó rápidamente en la escena musical por su mezcla ecléctica de punk, rock, funk y ritmos africanos. La banda se compuso originalmente de David Byrne (voz y guitarra), Chris Frantz (batería), Tina Weymouth (bajo) y Jerry Harrison (teclados y guitarra).
David Byrne, Chris Frantz y Tina Weymouth se conocieron en la Rhode Island School of Design. Compartían intereses similares en arte y música, lo que los llevó a formar una banda llamada The Artistics. Sin embargo, al mudarse a Nueva York y para alinearse con la vibrante escena punk del CBGB, decidieron cambiar su nombre a Talking Heads.
El 8 de junio de 1975, Talking Heads debutó en CBGB como teloneros de los Ramones. Su actuación llamó la atención del crítico de música del The Village Voice, John Rockwell, quien elogió su frescura. Esta exposición les permitió firmar con Sire Records en 1976.
Su primer álbum, Talking Heads: 77, presentó al mundo su estilo inconfundible. El sencillo "Psycho Killer" se convirtió en un himno y ayudó a establecer su reputación como pioneros del nuevo sonido post-punk.
Fooled around enough with numbers
Let's not be ourselves today
Is it just my imagination
Is it just someone's fave
Pleasantly out of proportion
It's hard to hold on to the ground
Now I didn't come to run
And this is everything
And gravity lets you down
I get wild, wizing up
I just can't let go
I get wild when I get ready
I can hardly talk
Living lights
Special lights
Yellow turns blue
I get wild It's automatic
I can hardly move
Go ahead and pull the curtains
Check to see if I'm still here
Let me lose my perspective
Something worth waiting for
Somewhere in South Carolina
And gravity don't mean a thing
And all around the world
Each and ev'ryone
Playing with a heart of steel
I get up climbing out
How did I get home?
I'll survive the situation
Somebody shut the door
Beautiful
Beautiful
Climbing up the wall
I get by on automatic
No surprise at all
No one here can recognize you
Here is ev'rything that you like
Feelings without explanations
Somethings are hard to describe
The sound of a cigarette burning
A place there where ev'rything spins
And the sounds inside your mind
Is playing all the time
Playing with a heart of steel
I get wild, wizing up
I just can't let go
I get wild when I get ready
I can hardly talk
Red 'n' white black to gold
Yellow turns blue
I get wild It's automatic
I can hardly move
I get up pushing up
How did I get home?
I'll survive the situation
Somebody shut the door
Shut the door
Shut the door
Climbing up the wall
I get by on automatic