My initial reaction was "call the cops." However...
We're moved in our new house three years ago. The people across the street have problems. The husband (actually, he's a former cop, poetic justice), has a neuroligical disease. From what neighbors tell me, he was the task master. Mom has a "it's not problem if it's not bugging me" attitude. And she has a 15 year old son with very little male-influence at the moment. God Bless her, she's working 60 hours a week to make ends meet and has to take her husband to Hershey (2.5 hours a way) once a week for experimental treatment.
She and I have enjoyed several discussions about why I don't own a dog yet still do a lot of poop scooping, how sending their son to a driving range (for which I offered to pay) would avoid my running over golf balls with the mower, and how the fact that she's not home doesn't make it any less annoying when Josh has everyone in the county with a four-wheeler come to their house and rev their engines at 10 PM.
But I found one I can combat! When the rap music started, I'd tried to be patient. I was young once and liked loud music. But when it went until 1 AM and I got attitude from ten teenage punks when I went over to deal with it (neighbor lady works a few nights shifts, a problem), I got a little tight. But with rap music, we're not talking just loud music, we're talking language I don't want to hear, and I refuse having my wife hear. I was inches from calling the cops. Neighbor lady's opinion: I've got to work, you'll just have to deal with it how you see fit.
I decided to show her why that was a bad attitude. After warning the rest of the neighbors (who found the idea hilarious), I woke up at 6 AM one Saturday, set my stereo up in the garage, got out some tools to make shelving, and at 6:30 AM turned on Frank Sinatra. Loud. Halfway through New York, NY, neighbor lady walked out the door, steaming. She asked "will you turn that stuff off?" Told her, with a smile, I would, but every time I heard rap music or anything else after 10 PM, which I think is fair, she was getting a memory lane wakeup call the following Saturday. And I pointed out I'd been kind and left the Led Zepplin in the house for the opening volley.
Urban warfare: creativity at its finest.
Pat