Kyle Regan—a masochistic Stranger reader—has vowed to do every single thing recommended by the Stranger Suggests (movies, galleries, bars, concerts) for the month of January. Look for his reports daily on Slog. —Eds.

The Transcendent Church of Bass is camouflaged. Nestled between a garden supply store and a Christian ministry, you'd never give it a second glance. Just another office building on a lonely stretch of road with no hint of the party inside.

The dance floor itself isn't huge: maybe half the size of the Neumos floor. Wide couches, bean bags and upholstered boxes give the flat-footed and asthmatic a chance to rest. Psychedelic and classical art dotted the walls. To complete the inverted-church feel, a small alter with lit candles and Catholic-style portraits adorned the floor directly in front of the DJs, our pastors for the night.

Opening DJs Manos and Kadeejah Streets spun techno. I don't know what kind of techno from the gazillion subgenres, but it was easy enough to dance to. And by dance to, I mean gyrate and twist like your body was a Winamp visualization. There were a couple dreadlocked women doing some sort of electronic swing dance. One of them gave me a demonstration, swirling around me like an eel. I tried to mimic her movements with moderate success. Electrosect took over for Manos and company.

The place didn't really fill up until around 1 am. By the time headliner Bryan Zentz took over for Ctrl_Alt_Dlt and Jonny Romero, the room was packed. When I first showed up, the place had a... scent. Some mix of BO and staleness. As more people showed, the place actually smelled better. I left for a little bit so it couldn't have just been me getting used to it. You would, however, still walk into pockets of odor. Invisible clouds of weed-reek and sweat-scent lurked.

It's funny—100 or so feet away is a building devoted to building the Christian faith. The Church of Bass is a different sort of church; a hedonistic frenzy that also tries to convert people to another cause that is underrepresented in Seattle. Jesus and techno aren't big here. I wonder if the ministry is even aware of the nocturnal boogie happening within spitting distance.

I never would have found this place were it not for the suggestion. I found a few like-minded geeky kids who I clung to, but the atmosphere (in part due to a friendly and helpful staff) was open and accepting enough that I would have been okay alone. The stares and pressure I feel at the Belltown clubs are nonexistent here. One of the most unique recommendations of the month.

Two more days. Time flies...