A rockklub only for me
It probably hasn’t gone unnoticed by many that I was deeply in love with High Voltage.
Perfectly placed in the middle of Copenhagen’s madness, easy to get to and even easier to get home from, no matter your state. A concert venue and nightclub where I could just be myself—spandex and 80s glam or a suit. Completely irrelevant. No judgment, no staring. On the contrary, there was always love in the house, even when I looked like a clumsy version of Sidney Lee (R.I.P.).
The place wasn’t big, but it was damn well designed. The walls covered in rock icons and devilish details, the air thick with metal, sweat, and togetherness. When there were no concerts, nonstop heavy metal and death metal blasted through the system until the floor gave in.
Behind the bar stood the coolest bartenders—tattoos, colorful hair, and vibes straight out of a Marilyn Manson music video. Smiling, skilled, and clearly happy to be there.
The man behind it all was Martin Jensen. Not just the owner, but the driving force, the engine and the passion behind everything. It was his love for the music and the scene that set the direction and made High Voltage more than just a venue and a nightclub. You could feel it in everything, from the bookings to the atmosphere, from the crowd to the staff.
BUT! Then the thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, happened. High Voltage closed its doors, not due to bankruptcy, but for other reasons. The result is the same: a big void in Copenhagen’s nightlife. The club is now just a memory.
A big thank you to Martin Jensen, thank you for the noise, the sweat, and the sense of community!
HV, you are missed. 🤘