Donny Benét brings his glossy post-disco and suave synth-pop to Summit on Friday night. The Australian bassist and crooner has carved out a lane with satin keys, slap-happy grooves, and a wink that never slips into parody. Albums like Mr Experience and The Don made him a cult favorite, and his live show leans on tight rhythm section interplay, lush pads, and deadpan charm. Doors at 7, show at 8, full band treatment.

Summit Music Hall is LoDo’s big, brick-walled workhorse, a mid-sized room that packs in just over a thousand without killing sightlines. The floor is wide, the balcony is useful, and the sound team keeps bass warm and vocals clear. It skews rock, indie, and dance parties, with a busy bar along the wall and quick changeovers. It is the city’s dependable stage for acts on the cusp of theater size.

Glitterer heads to the Marquis with Ned Russin channeling Title Fight’s melodic grit into hooky, diaristic indie rock. The project has grown from bedroom sketches to a full-band jolt, all fuzzed bass, wiry guitars, and plainspoken vocals that cut straight through. Recent material sharpens the bite without losing the tenderness, landing somewhere between post-hardcore tension and power-pop release. Doors 7, show 8, and the amps do the talking.

Marquis is the Ballpark district’s punky shoebox, a few hundred cap room attached to one of the city’s most reliable slice shops. The stage is low, the PA is loud, and the pit area stays tight, which is exactly why bands love it. All ages nights are common, and the staff turns sets fast. It is built for sweat, quick connections, and merch tables that actually get browsed.

Alli Walker plays the Grizzly Rose with a modern country sound that leans honest and unvarnished. The Canadian songwriter built a following on straight-talking anthems about anxiety, love, and vices, pairing big hooks with steel-bright polish and a relatable streak that sticks. On stage she keeps it personable and high-energy, folding pop sheen into twang without losing the storytelling core. Friday at 8 p.m., full band in tow.

The Grizzly Rose is Denver’s classic country dance hall, a cavernous barn of a room with a sprung wooden floor and the city’s friendliest two-step scene. National acts hit the big stage while locals pack the corners, and the line-dance lessons warm the crowd up early. Sightlines are clear, the house mix favors vocals, and there is always room to move. Mechanical bull, neon, and cold longnecks complete the picture.

Gogol Bordello storms the Ogden with their long-running gypsy punk carnival, led by Eugene Hütz’s hollered poetry and a band that whips violin, accordion, and electric guitars into a joyous racket. They tour like lifers for a reason: sweat-soaked singalongs, circle-dance tempos, and immigrant rock anthems that still land with force. It is a 16+ show, Friday at 8 p.m., and the floor tends to move as one.

The Ogden Theatre is the Colfax workhorse, a historic 1910 room with a sloped floor, wraparound balcony, and a PA that can handle anything from metal to cumbia. Capacity sits around 1,600 and the sightlines are honest from almost anywhere. Bars move quickly, security is seasoned, and the lighting rig adds drama without blinding the back row. It is where mid-level tours feel big.

STVSH takes the decks at Club Vinyl with a set built on driving house, percussive tech, and bass-forward club weapons. He moves quick between sleek grooves and jagged jack tracks, keeping the energy climbing without burning the room out too early. The transitions are clean, the drums stay punchy, and the shape of the night feels intentional. It is a 21+ late start, perfect for the main floor’s stamina.

Club Vinyl anchors Broadway’s multi-room complex, with a cavernous main floor, a low-lit basement, and a rooftop that breathes when the weather cooperates. The system hits clean and deep, the booths are placed smartly, and the programming leans from house and techno to bass nights. Staff knows how to move a line, and the separate rooms let DJs carve their own vibe across the building.

Dennis Cruz returns to Denver with the kind of sleek, rolling tech house that built his name on labels like Solid Grooves and Hot Creations. His tracks ride clipped percussion, rubbery basslines, and vocal snips that land square on the shoulders. In the booth he stretches and doubles back with purpose, keeping the pulse locked while the tension breathes. This is a late 21+ runner built for peak-hour momentum.

The Church Nightclub is exactly that, a former church turned dance cathedral with stained glass, soaring ceilings, and a floor that can take a pounding. The main room’s stacks carry sub cleanly through the nave, and the balcony booths give a bird’s-eye view without losing impact. It is Denver’s most photogenic club and a natural home for house and techno headliners that want their drops to echo.

Conducta brings UK garage back into sharp focus in The Basement, threading sugar-high R&B chops through crisp 2-step drums and weighty subs. As the head of Kiwi Rekords, he helped kick the new-gen garage wave into gear and remains one of its cleanest selectors. Count on skippy percussion, deft blends, and that distinctive London swing locked from the open to lights up.

The Basement at Club Vinyl is the complex’s dark heart, a low-ceilinged room tuned for sub pressure and quick-footed dancers. The booth sits close to the floor, which keeps the connection tight, and the lighting favors strobes and color washes over big production. It is intimate, sweaty, and perfect for sounds that live in the pocket like garage and drum and bass.

Club 90s brings one of its themed pop blowouts to Summit, packing a night of DJs spinning singalong-heavy hits, remixes, and deep-fan favorites. It is the touring party that treats the dance floor like a chorus line, big on photo ops and even bigger on hooks. This one is 18+, with doors at 8 and music from 9 until the confetti settles and the playlists run out of breath.

Summit Music Hall sits in the heart of LoDo with industrial bones, a solid balcony, and a sound system that favors punch without sandpaper highs. The room flips easily between bands and dance parties, and bartenders keep lines short even when the floor is packed. Security is dialed, coat check is efficient, and the stage height keeps energy pinging between crowd and DJ all night.

All Your Friends is a DJ night built for an 18+ crowd that likes its pop left-of-center and its indie loud enough to shout. Expect a quick sweep from blog-era gems to current alt anthems, with a little hyperpop sugar buzzing at the edges when the night needs a jolt. It lives right where singalong choruses meet cathartic floor toms and sweaty smiles.

Marquis thrives on nights like this. The compact Ballpark room keeps the DJ close to the dancers, the bass response is punchy without turning to mush, and the bar moves quickly between drops. With the pizza window humming next door and staff who know how to pace a party, it is one of the city’s easiest rooms to lose track of time in.

Tony Rock brings veteran timing and a sharp, elastic delivery to the Denver Improv. He has been a road-tested headliner for years, mixing family-and-fame observations with quick jabs and crowd work that stays crisp without derailing the set. The material hits fast, the punchlines stack, and the stage presence does the heavy lifting without gimmicks.

Denver Improv sits in Northfield with the classic club setup: low sightlines that keep comics close, quick table service, and a two-item minimum. Seating is general admission unless you spring for a booth, and the staff moves the room with minimal fuss. It draws national comics every weekend and keeps the sound tight so every tag lands clean.