“We opened up at 7 o’clock that day. I got here right about 7, and there was a line out my door, down the hallway, outside and all the way to McDonalds,” says Charlie Chapman. “That day I had all of my employees – four or five at the time – working. There were even a couple of them who volunteered to skip class to work. We had customers in all day, probably no less than 10 or 15 at a time … We sold between 300 and 400 copies.”

Chapman is the manager of Peeples Music. He is describing Oct. 19, 1993, the day when Pearl Jam’s “Vs.” hit shelves.

It was the store’s busiest day ever.

“It was crazy all day,” he says, a bit wistfully. “It was unbelievable.”

I have been talking with Chapman in his record store for almost an hour this afternoon. The little bell attached to the door hasn’t jingled once yet.

No customers.

Don’t get me wrong. There are times that quite a few shoppers will be in the store, either flipping through the impeccably alphabetized CDs in the white browsers, or huddled at the listening station with headphones on checking out this week’s selected albums.

But those times aren’t frequent enough.

Even when highly anticipated albums, like Slipknot’s “Iowa” or Weezer’s “Green Album,” are released, the response is nothing near what it was on that day in October of ’93, or the day in ’88 when “Rattle and Hum” from U2 came out, or even Nine Inch Nails’ “The Downward Spiral” in ’94.

That’s why this story is more of a eulogy than a feature about one of Ames’ musical landmarks. After 16 years of business, Peeples Music, the only independent music store left in Ames, is closing.

Peeples began in 1976 as a small record store in Des Moines. Ten years later it expanded to include an Ames location at 303 Welch Ave. # 108, in Campustown, where it remains today. Chapman took control of the Ames branch two years after it opened. It has outlasted a slew of other music stores, such as Archives, Aftermath and Dharma Records, to name just a few, that have tried to set up shop in Campustown.

Chapman credits Peeples’ stamina to the fact that the store is rather “uncool.”

“We’ve never jumped on any bandwagon,” he says. “We’ve never tried to be cool. We’ve never promoted ourselves as the store that was identified with a trend at a particular time. We’ve never been a punk store. We’ve never been a techno store. We’ve never been a metal store or a ska store. We’ve just always tried to carry a little bit of everything in all the genres that was good.”

Peeples is buried behind a flower shop, a coffee shop and other rotating businesses that inhabit the 303 Welch building. It’s these two scents – fresh-cut flowers and coffee grinds – that combine with Peeples’ own smell of incense and old records to give it a unique aroma. Anyone who has ever set foot in the store knows what I mean. And it’s odd that the smell of old vinyl still sticks to the walls; it’s been a long time since the store stocked much vinyl. Today there is only one small rack left. Chapman explains to me in detail how the advent of the CD era effectively wiped vinyl from the shelves. But more about that later.

Chapman’s eyes scan his store as we talk. The room itself is small, yet always tidy. Chapman makes sure of that. The inside walls are blanketed with posters and stickers featuring the names of common bands, not-so-common bands and really, really rare bands. There is an entire wall devoted to box sets, imports and rare collections from the likes of XTC, Magnetic Fields, Charlie Parker and others.

Chapman points out a Polaroid of himself taped up behind the counter. In the photograph, which was taken more than 20 years ago in the last record store he worked at, he has longer hair, a full beard and a big grin on his face.

A cash register, the old-school kind that still makes a chugging sound when Chapman pops open the drawer, sits on the right side of the counter. There’s no computer. When a customer brings a purchase to the counter, he rings it up and writes up a receipt by hand.

Chapman himself is a fixture at the store. Single-handedly he runs Peeples Monday through Friday and some Saturdays. His only other employee covers the other Saturdays. He recognizes most of the customers who stop in, and knows some by name. He knows what bands they’re into, and can almost always suggest similar artists they might like.

“Charlie knew you by face when you walked in the door,” says Greg Rice, graduate student in computer engineering and a Peeples regular. “He always knew me and he would say, `Oh, you should check this out,’ or ask me what I thought of a label.”

“For one guy, he knows an incredible amount about lots of genres of music,” Rice continues. “Most indie record stores will hire a person for each genre, who knows a lot about that genre, but Charlie is a fan of everything … He is always real friendly, even though he’s a little quiet.”

Back in the store, the little bell finally rings, and a few customers file through the door. One girl comes to the counter and asks if Peeples has gift certificates.

“Yeah, but you know, I gotta be honest with you,” Chapman tells her. “We’re only going to open ’til the end of the month, so unless they’re going to use it in the next-“

” – Oh, I’m sure they’ll use it in the next day or two,” she interrupts.

“Oh yeah, sure then,” Chapman replies.

“Are you guys moving or what?”

“Nope, we’re just closing down.”

“Bummer . That really sucks.”

I ask Chapman how most people respond when he tells them the store is folding.

“People who come in here all the time have been really upset about it,” he says. “They generally hate to see it. They’re our customers; they are people who are coming in and know pretty much what we have to offer. And they know what is not going to be offered when we go.”

“He could always get me just about any small-label loud rock stuff,” Rice says. “I order lots of metal and hardcore on small labels from him, and he’s never not been able to come through for me. I will occasionally rent a video from some place like Hastings and ask them if they could get a certain album. They would either say no, or they would say they would special order it for me and it would take six to eight weeks to get there. It’s more expensive, and they aren’t willing to get any of the small labels. Charlie could get it in under a week.”

Chapman can list a multitude of reasons that his store is going out of business. He speaks at length about the impact of the sagging economy, the government, the “I-want-it-now” attitude kids always cop these days, those asshole major music label execs, the current flaky music climate and the intentions of buyers.

“I believe, for a lot of reasons, the digital era has kind of killed not only music stores, but music in general,” Chapman says. “Up until about 12 years ago, every college student bought vinyl and had a record player. That’s what they spent their disposable income on. They all wanted records, whether they were male, female, whether they were in a fraternity or not.”

When Chapman took the reigns at Peeples in 1987, the CD heyday had not come full swing yet. Although Peeples carried a small selection of discs, most of the bins were still loaded with cassettes and vinyl.

“There was a great transitional phase, between about ’90 and ’93, when CD players started becoming really affordable,” he says. “A lot of people were transforming their vinyl collections into CD. So people were buying tons and tons of CDs.”

Profit-wise, those conversional years were Peeples’ best. In response to overwhelming customer demand, the store’s vinyl offering began to shrink to clear space for more CDs.

But after the initial CD craze, business began to slump. And since then, independent record stores have been slammed with one hit after another.

First it was the introduction of other entertainment options, like DVDs and video games, that kids could spend their allowances and student loan money on.

Then it was the sudden escalade of the Internet, especially music-swapping sites like Napster.

And when CD burners became increasingly affordable, “sales really started to plummet,” Chapman says.

“I always thought it would turn around and get better,” Chapman says, as he changes the CD playing over the store’s speakers from Zoar to Sea of Tombs. The disconsolate music seems to match the tone of the conversation. “I always thought there was a chance. But then we got into a downward spiral and haven’t been able to pull out of it.”

“Music has degenerated to more of a given,” he adds. “It’s a provided commodity. It’s something you hear on the radio. It’s something you get free on the Internet. It’s something you hear in clubs . Music has been very, very devalued in the last few years.”

Chapman claims this problem is ubiquitous. But what about Ames music consumers? Isn’t it partly our fault that the store is closing? Why do other Iowa cities seem to support flourishing independent music stores?

“I can’t blame it just on this town, because it’s happening all over the country,” Chapman says. “I just found out there’s a big store in Toronto that folded. The music industry in general sucks . People are in a musical rut.”

“But,” he adds, “It is a sad commentary about a major university that can’t support just one indie record store.”

To find out if the problem is indeed universal, as Chapman claims, I decide to visit a couple of other music shops only a few hours from Ames.

At 15 years old, Relics Records is Cedar Rapids’ only independently owned music store, and is also one of Iowa’s largest. It’s tucked away on a back street in northeast Cedar Rapids, at an even more inconvenient location than Peeples occupies in Ames.

And Relics is the epitome of the indie record store.

It’s a lot larger than Peeples, and it’s the kind of place that makes your hair smell like patchouli and cigarette smoke when you leave. You have to duck to get from rack to rack on account of all the beads and tapestries hanging from the ceiling. Pieces of cardboard serve as dividers in the CD bins. It’s crowded and comfy, and it has grown since the last time I’ve been inside.

I tell owner Marcus Draves why I’m here. I want to talk about the state of indie record stores. He gestures to a tie-dyed couch in front of a CD player. We sit down, and I tell him about Peeples closing.

“Oh man, that sucks,” he says earnestly, shaking his head. “If you see the owner, tell him I’m sorry. We’re all kind of brothers in this. When one store dies, we feel for it.”

Draves, too, can list many reasons that independents are suffering. Most carry a similar ring to what Chapman has already told me. Like Chapman, he loathes Napster. (“Kids have this fucking attitude that they don’t have to pay for music, so they won’t. And that is crap. If you don’t pay for music now, there won’t be anyone around to make the music later.”) Like Chapman, he holds the conservative government accountable for its passive attitude towards small business. Like Chapman, he bemoans America’s avaricious corporate attitude. Like Chapman, he blames the state of mainstream music. (“We don’t sell Britney. If the kids want Britney Spears, mommy and daddy can drop them off and let the mall baby-sit them, instead of taking an active role in what they’re listening to.”)

And like Chapman, Relics owner Marcus Draves doesn’t hesitate to place some of the responsibility on Ames residents.

“I think it’s definitely the type of kids the stores draw,” he says, lighting a cigarette. “Iowa State seems to draw more farm kids and that type, kids that are more into sports or drinking or something. [Ames] seems a bit more middle class and structured than Iowa City; music is probably more secondary to them. There’s more of a cross culture in Iowa City.”

Relics has not been suffering the same sorts of woes Peeples has. In fact, last year the store did “really, really well,” Draves reports.

“[In Cedar Rapids] there’s lots of kids into lots of different scenes,” he explains. “We sell a lot of metal and punk, a bit of this and a bit of that. Our customers are music fans. They aren’t in it for the fashion statement. They can go to Sam Goody for that. Also, we carry stuff you probably can’t find anywhere else.”

Record Collector is a good-sized indie record store with a great location in the heart of the Pedestrian Mall district in Iowa City. It’s in a spot that enjoys hordes of window shoppers and college kids, since the Ped Mall is sandwiched right in the middle of the University of Iowa campus.

It specializes in electronic and dance music – there are always DJs and wanna-be DJs glued to the in-store turntables – but it also stocks jazz, hip-hop and indie rock. In addition, Record Collector sports a formidable used CD section. And it’s not one of those used CD sections where all you can find is eight copies of Bryan Adams’ “Waking up the Neighbors”. Dig a bit and you can find like-new copies of standard indie fare like Cibo Matto, Mark Eitzel and Stephen Malkmus.

Business at Record Collector has remained steady – not great, but steady – says employee Adam Tetzloff, a U of I grad.

“Our prices are always just enough for us to make a profit,” he says. “And we cater to a different clientele than places like Best Buy or Sam Goody.”

Not only is the clientele separate, Tetzloff adds, so are the respective employee pools.

“We consider ourselves more academic about music,” Tetzloff says, “We have more specific tastes which we’re more adamant about.”

Tetzloff concurs the Ames music base may have something to do with the problem. Iowa City, he says, has a relatively strong music scene, one that supports more “fringe” bands.

“Considering the season and the economy, things are OK,” he says. “It’s not like we’re worried about closing or anything.”

Back in Ames, Chapman asks me to try not to make this article sound too negative. But considering the circumstances, it’s difficult to extract many positives from the situation.

“I think the immediate future of music is going to be real bleak,” he says. “The only music you’re going to see exposed is going to be major artists. You’ll probably have to go to the Internet to find your indie favorite artists. And I don’t see Best Buy carrying a whole line of Vagrant, Dischord or Matador catalog.”

Try making that sound positive.

Regular Peeples patrons know they will either have to travel or pay expensive shipping prices to get their hands on less accessible albums.

“I don’t know what store is going to carry as much independent product as I have,” Chapman says. “Our Des Moines store is going to start carrying more to try to pick up the slack, but they carry a lot less than we do here.”

Rice agrees.

“Ames will suffer a huge blow to independent music,” he says. “You go to Hastings or Sam Goody, they’re both big corporations. They only carry the main stuff from big labels … We’re going to suffer a blow to the music culture here because people won’t be able to get the albums as readily as they could before.”

And as for Chapman?

“I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “I’m up for suggestions. I’ll probably stay in Ames and find work. I think my time with the music business has run its course.”