On August 31, 2025, the doors of Rupp’s Drums will close for the last time. For many musicians in Colorado and beyond, that date now carries a weight that’s hard to put into words. What began in 1984 as a small, living-room business from founder Bob Rupp grew steadily into one of the most beloved independent drum shops in the country: a place that was as much a community hub as a store.
Bob Rupp was known for more than just selling gear. He had a knack for making people feel like they belonged. Whether it was a young kid buying his first pair of sticks or a seasoned touring pro stopping by between gigs, Rupp greeted everyone the same way: with genuine interest and infectious enthusiasm. That spirit shaped the shop’s identity from the very beginning.
When Alex Simpson took over in 2018, the business had lost some of its shine. Simpson, once a loyal customer himself, stepped in with the goal of bringing it back to life. Over the next several years, he did more than that. He revived the brand, expanded its presence, and brought world-class drummers to Denver for clinics and masterclasses, more than 120 events in total. Names like Dennis Chambers and Todd Sucherman filled the shop with eager audiences and unforgettable lessons. For a while, Rupp’s wasn’t just surviving. It was thriving.
But good intentions don’t always win against bigger forces. Simpson noted that finding a buyer who could carry the torch proved impossible in today’s cautious lending climate. Independent retail, especially niche music retail, has faced mounting pressure across the country. In the end, the decision wasn’t about desire. It was about reality.
In a heartfelt public note, Simpson thanked the customers, teachers, artists, and staff who had helped shape the Rupp’s experience. He invited people to share their stories and memories as the store enters its final weeks. Many have already responded, not with complaints or anger, but with gratitude for the lessons they learned, the gear they found, and the people they met along the way.
Rupp’s Drums was never just about drums. It was about connection. About walking into a room filled with cymbals and conversation, about feeling understood as a musician. It was about hearing a new idea in a clinic, trying out a different grip, or just talking shop with someone who cared.
When the final sale is rung up and the lights go out, the building may go quiet. But what happened inside: over four decades of groove, laughter, and learning—won’t be forgotten. Not by the drummers who passed through, and not by a city that knew what it had.