A reminder to "friends" that borrowed our studio space at ten o'clock last night: the next door neighbors know local noise regulations chapter and verse (it and their codex of police contacts go hand in hand), and after your cat-strangle Ramones covers broke up their septuagenarian book klatsch, you may confidently expect a dun, dun, dun on the door to cover $200 in fines or (barring that) the thrill of being tossed out into the snow; we jubilate at either prospect.
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