Sent to my building's mailing list at 1:58 a.m:
Dear whoever is playing music at 2 a.m:And my followup:
Please turn it off or use headphones. While it's not obnoxiously loud, the bass definitely carries through the building and it's preventing me from sleeping.
3:21 a.m. The insidious and near-monotonic bass line is still going. Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum, Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum. It's crawling through my brain, a constant drone that I can't seem to escape. Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum, Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum.
If that's you playing, then dear god please either stop or learn a few more notes. Bum bada BUM BUM would be a welcome respite right now, and I'll even teach you. If it's recorded then I beg of you, turn it off. Have mercy on my sleep and my soul. Play some nice gregorian chant or something... anything without an unimaginitive and incessant bass line.
Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum, Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum.
If I could figure out who was doing it, then I'd Bum da bum, BUM ba bum on your door. When you saw the slightly maniacal look in my eye you'd get the message without my having to say a word. I don't want to guess wrong, though, and wake up the wrong neighbor. Bum ba bum, BUM ba bum.
If this keeps up I'll be sorely tempted to retaliate. We're obviously both night owls, but I will absolutely get up at 8 a.m. just to seek vengeance. Trust me when I say that you do not want to be awakened by the dulcet strains of Jerry Springer, the Opera. You'll be having nightmares about barbed wire for months.
I'm joking about that last part.