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Bridgend sits in the south of Wales, around twenty miles west of the capital Cardiff. Bisected by the River Ogmore, its history, like much of South Wales, has been shaped by the fickle fortunes of industry – in particular, coal and steel. The soil of the valleys to the north of the town were so rich with coal that, by the time the First World War broke out, the small communities that speckled the mountainous terrain had swollen inexorably, with row upon row of terraced houses built to accommodate the influx of workers. But while at one time Cardiff and Swansea were some of the most important trade routes in the world for coal and steel, after the Second World War the industry entered a steady decline. First came dwindling investment from the government, before the free-market policies of Margaret Thatcher in the 1980s effectively saw support being withdrawn altogether. The legacy of this sudden collapse was unemployment, deprivation and drug use.

Bridgend was not the worst hit of the South Wales towns, particularly thanks to the construction of a new motorway in the 1970s that connected the town with the east and the development of new, privately-owned housing estates in the 1980s. But as the 1980s turned into the 1990s, it was still marked by the residual problems of the valleys – a lack of jobs and a shortage of investment. However, all was not as hopeless as it seemed. As a verse from Brian Harris’s famous poem In Passing goes, ‘To be born in Wales, / Not with a silver spoon in your mouth, / But, with music in your blood / And with poetry in your soul, / Is a privilege indeed.’

And so it was with music in his blood and poetry in his soul that Matthew Tuck entered the world on 20 January 1980. His father, who worked for a food company, was a huge fan of music himself, drawn in particular to the quintessential American artists who defined the image of the USA to everyone outside it: the freewheeling literariness of Bob Dylan, the heartland romance of Bob Seger and the blue-collar stargazing of Bruce Springsteen. Matt was the third child of the family, with two older twin sisters, but it was him and his dad who shared the most interests. Their first passion was sport, with Matt pursuing rugby, football, karate and basketball – anything that he could compete in (this determined streak would prove distinctly useful later on). Their second shared passion was, of course, music. His dad would play him records from his favourite singers, and their words, the way in which they would construct their songs, and the cadence of their voices as they sang, all began soaking into the young Tuck’s head.

It wasn’t a musical education completely devoid of aggression either – Matt’s dad was also a fan of Led Zeppelin and he was certainly interested in getting Matt more involved in music. At the age of five, he bought him a full six-piece Premier drum kit and Matt played his very first beats as a musician. As he later told hardDrive Radio, ‘I was always being pushed towards music.’ And while he didn’t necessarily appreciate the influence of his dad’s taste in music at the time – what child does? – and has stated that he later got into heavy music as a reaction to his dad’s more sedate collection, the influence of those classic songwriters would stay with him long into his adulthood.

However, of Matt’s two loves, it was sport that came first. Thanks to an early growth spurt, he was nearly six foot tall by the age of fourteen, which put him at a huge advantage in both basketball and rugby – so much so that he was representing Wales in basketball at that age. But it was also the time that the course of his life would change forever. His parents had recently bought Sky TV, a digital-television service that gave access to hundreds of TV channels, rather than the five terrestrial channels available as standard at the time in the UK. That meant specialist channels and, in particular, MTV: the most influential arbiter of popular music in the days before the Internet. One day Matt was flicking through the channels when a new music clip started. It featured distorted images of a child tossing and turning in bed, cut with strobe shots of fingers on a fretboard and a lingering shot of a skull ring. From the speakers came a riff, languid and cold, yet laced with menace. It was the video for Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’ and within ten seconds Matt was hooked. There’s no telling how many musicians ‘Enter Sandman’ has incited to pick up a guitar or sit behind a drum kit for the first time, but in a small market town in South Wales, some three years after its initial release, one teenage boy knew immediately that he wanted to be in a band.

From that point on, Tuck began saving every penny he could. He was consumed by the idea that he would learn to play the guitar and soon he had enough to purchase his first instrument: a white Squier Stratocaster (he would sell it some eighteen months later – a decision he has since come to regret). But with an entry-level electric guitar and a copy of Metallica’s self-titled album – the LP that featured ‘Enter Sandman’, popularly referred to as The Black Album – Tuck had everything he needed to begin. He locked himself in his room for hours, days and months on end, determined to learn every riff and lick on the record. Then he moved on to every other Metallica record. He learned the basics of heavy-metal guitar from the band that have been most influential in propagating it; techniques like palm-muting, where the hand is rested on the strings to give a percussive thud, and tuning to a lower pitch for a heavier, fatter sound. He had no teacher to show him the ropes or books to guide him; he simply listened to The Black Album, over and over, and played until his fingers naturally fell in line with the riffs.

Metallica were not just pioneers of thrash, they were also its figureheads. They have transformed from being merely a band into an institution, backed by a formidable body of work. By combining brutal riffs and fast tempos with an impeccable sense of craft in their songwriting, they eventually became one of the world’s most iconic metal bands so, if you wanted to be a musician practising the dark arts of rock, you couldn’t go far wrong in using Metallica as your starting point. But crucially, they were also a gateway for Matt, and soon he was devouring a wider range of heavy music, starting with the other players of American thrash metal. There was Slayer, chaotic and savage where Metallica were furiously precise; Anthrax and Megadeth, the two other founding fathers that would, together with Metallica and Slayer, come to be known as the ‘Big Four’; and Testament, the Californian act often overlooked for falling outside that quartet of titans.

Beyond thrash metal, Tuck also began listening to more modern American acts and MTV proved to be fertile ground for cultivating his taste. His first experience of Pantera came when he was watching Headbangers Ball, a seminal heavy-metal show that ran on MTV from 1987–95. The clip in question was from a live show in Moscow and the song was ‘Domination’. Shot in black-and-white, it is not hard to see why it caught his attention. A shirtless Dimebag Darrell tosses his signature mane back and forth like he’s having convulsions, while a brutish Phil Anselmo – his head shaven, ‘CFH’ (Cowboys From Hell) tattoo visible – moves around the stage like a man weaving through a crowd at a riot, restless but utterly in control. From Pantera, Tuck moved on to other bands that had taken the thrash template and injected it with a new snarling swagger, like Machine Head (from Oakland, California) and the genre-blurring Sepultura from Brazil. At the same time he also developed an appreciation for the pomp and hedonism of 1980s ‘hair metal’. One particular favourite of his was Shotgun Messiah, a Swedish glam metal band whose 1991 album Second Coming had all the sex and excess you could want, delivered with a brash punk-rock edge. The key influences that would continue to guide Tuck throughout his career can be found in those acts: brutal American thrash and arena-baiting 1980s metal. As he would later say to German online magazine DasDing, ‘I always wanted to be in a fuckin’ eighties hair metal band anyways. I love that era, I love the style, the attitude, the sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll… but I missed the boat.’

Matt had actually first jammed with friends in school as a drummer but within six months he was already a competent guitar player. At the age of fifteen he sold the drum kit that his dad had bought him to upgrade his guitar gear. He admitted to Metal Hammer magazine that he has a tendency to ‘geek out’ on whatever he gets into, so the time-span between picking up a guitar and being able to play it was shorter than for most and, seeing the progress that he’d made, his parents backed him to the hilt. He has spoken many times of the positive influence his parents have had on his career and the support that they’ve given him, even when his love of music took the place of his sporting ambitions and, ultimately, his achievements at school (‘I went from almost like a semi-professional athlete at a young age and being very focused academically, to being a proper muso pisshead by the time I was sixteen,’ he told Metal Hammer). With that said, to this day it remains a dream of Matt’s to pull on Wales’s red jersey just once and have ten minutes representing his country in rugby. It might be an ambition too far.

But no aspiring young musician is going to fulfil his dreams alone, particularly if he’s idolising Metallica and Pantera, and Matt was not alone. Since joining his secondary school at the age of eleven – Ogmore School, in the north of the town – he had been hanging out with Michael Thomas. Some people are just destined to get a nickname that more or less replaces their given name and Thomas is one of those people; to future fans, he would always be simply Moose. (He’s been somewhat evasive as to the origin of his beastly sobriquet, with explanations offered that include the size of his manhood, his style of making love, or his cavemanlike mentality. However, a more sensible suggestion that’s been offered is that it’s a childhood nickname based on his favourite animal.)

Moose had grown up listening to Queen with his dad – Queen are often credited as one of the progenitors of thrash thanks to their song ‘Stone Cold Crazy’, so perhaps they had more of an impact on the impressionable Moose than he would later let on. But for him, the band that changed it all was Nirvana. Where grunge can be said to have sprung from the same well as heavy metal, Nirvana’s sound had more to do with the noisy art rock of Sonic Youth and the Pixies than the focused rage of Metallica.

Just as Matt was first a drummer, Moose started out as a guitar player. His brother had received a guitar as a Christmas present and from that moment on Moose decided he had to have one too.

He was fourteen years old when he first began playing with Matt but it was when he sat behind a friend’s drum kit that he would truly find his feet (in more ways than one). He was a left-hander but his friend’s kit was set up right-handed. Instead of switching all the component parts around, he just started playing open-hand style, meaning that he didn’t cross his hands to play beats on the snare and hi-hat. ‘I was punk rock: I just sat behind my friend’s drum kit and picked up the sticks. I didn’t know which way it was supposed to go, so that’s how I learned,’ he explained to DRUM! Magazine. He’s since expressed regret that he didn’t learn to play with the kit set up in the conventional manner that a left-handed drummer would play, as he feels that it’s held him back from learning certain techniques, though it’s never held back Faith No More’s Mike Bordin, Soundgarden/Pearl Jam’s Matt Cameron or Tool’s Danny Carey.

As a die-hard Nirvana fan, Moose’s favourite drummer was, naturally, Dave Grohl, though Matt soon got him hooked on Metallica and he was smashing along with Ulrich to The Black Album too. Feeling like his guitar skills were wanting anyway, and getting more and more into the art of drumming thanks to players like Judas Priest’s Scott Travis and Slayer’s legendary Dave Lombardo (who is often credited for inventing the double-kick drum method), he made the switch to drums. It wasn’t the only area where the pair’s interests diverged. Where Matt commanded some respect on the rugby pitch, Moose preferred to express his athletic prowess on a skateboard. ‘I was always too much of a pussy [to ride skateboards]; I didn’t want to bust my face,’ Matt told Bullet’s official YouTube channel.

But if the pair were going to be in a band, they needed a singer and it was easy to decide who was going to do it. Necessity is the mother of invention, as the saying goes, and only one person they knew was able to play and sing at the same time. ‘It just so happened that when I met all the boys and we started getting the music together I was the only one that could really play Metallica riffs and sing at the same time,’ Matt told Metal Hammer. ‘The other guys could play but couldn’t do two things at the same time. I was always the kid that could do both.’ For almost as long as Matt was playing guitar, he also sang and having to fulfil both responsibilities at the same time would soon become second nature to him.