West Virginia Snake Handler Revival "They Shall Take Up Serpents" marks the arrival of a landmark record, documenting the last, snake handling church in Appalachia. Featuring hillbilly rock guitars, trance-like rhythms, and howling vocals, this album was recorded 100% live and without overdubs by Grammy-award winning producer and author, Ian Brennan (Tinariwen, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Zomba Prison Project). The first release of American music ever by Sublime Frequencies, Brennan states, "As much as I've traveled around the globe to remote areas such as Comoros, the southeast Sahara or up-river in Suriname, few places have felt more foreign or 'exotic' than this part of Appalachia. The recording represents in many ways a companion and counterpoint -- the other side of the Deep South, so to speak -- to the music that was explored on the Parchman Prison Prayer albums. The Snake Handler album was an attempt to listen across that divide -- a divide that's never fully healed and continues to haunt and imperil the USA to this day." The recording took place during a two-plus hour Sunday service in the West Virginia mountains. Brennan states, "I'd sworn to stay far away from the snakes at the service, but instead they were waved in my face as they coiled in the preachers' hands, and I crouched down at the foot of the altar tending to the equipment. The pastor soon was bitten and blood splattered, pooling on the floor. The female parishioners hurriedly came to wipe up the mess, and it instantly became clear just what the rolls of paper towels stacked on the pulpit had been for. You can actually hear this moment transpire towards the end of the track 'Don't Worry It's Just a Snakebite (What Has Happened to This Generation?)'. The congregation leapt to its feet and a mini mosh-pit formed. The tag-team preachers huffed handkerchiefs soaked in strychnine, as they circled like aggro frontmen and an elderly worshiper held the flame of a candle to her throat, closing her eyes and swaying. The church PA blew out from the screams as a bonnet-wearing senior whacked away at a trap kit that dwarfed her. It was the most metal thing I'd ever seen, rendering Slayer mere kids play." The flock claim to be the first church that merged Rock and Roll with firebrand preaching -- that the music was stolen from them by Satan, that they are the originators. Given that snake handling ministries can be traced back to at least 1910, there might even be a faint something to the claim. The pastor's father and brother both died after being bitten by timber rattlesnakes, and the pastor himself suffered greatly from one a few years back -- his forearm swelling to twice its size and turning slime green. As a result, he fell unconscious and his forearm had to be sliced open from wrist to bicep to relieve the pressure. Nonetheless, Pastor Chris steadfastly claims that "Jesus is our anti-venom." "Some people think we're Devil worshippers, that we're a cult. But snake handling is only a small part of what we do." In the 1970s there were reportedly five-hundred snake churches throughout Appalachia, but now there is only one -- in West Virginia, the only state where serpent handling remains legal. It's estimated that in the past century more than one-hundred preachers have died from poisonous snakebites inflicted while leading these services. This includes the founder of the first snake handling flock, George Went Hensley, who was illiterate and once convicted of selling moonshine during the Prohibition era. His death was officially ruled a suicide due to his refusing medical treatment. The local county's population has dropped by more than 80% in the wake of the West Virginia coal industry's globalization gutting, and the area now leads the USA in drug-related deaths per capita while also being the poorest in the state. Within minutes of launching into trance-like states during the service featured on this album, both preachers became drenched in sweat. More than strict scripture, the preachers are gifted improvisers able to vent for hours at a time. Brennan states, "Pastor Chris joked, 'You definitely don't want to hear me sing.' But, in fact, he is a gifted vocalist with singular phrasing." Like so much of the most classic music ever made, it sounds as if it is emanating from the past and the future simultaneously -- some parallel universe where instead of discovering amphetamines, The Damned found God (or maybe both) and became born again. The vinyl edition includes a long 13-minute bonus track and features a four-page booklet sporting stunning photos of the congregation's rituals in action.