The Price of Stupid Growth

In the backyard, the kitchen, the living room, in the front on the stoop or the sidewalk, from about 150 yards away it's loud and clear. The unmistakable sounds of a horrible cover band playing outside of one of the new brewpubs in the 700 block of State Street, blaring away right down State Street. People further east on State, maybe all the way to 5th Street, can likely hear it just as well. What a nightmare at 9 pm that started an hour ago. The fucking organ and drums are so loud.

It's not just that I can hear some sort of constant noise that might be music, it's actually possible to recognize the songs and hear some of the lyrics being sung and the fucking organ riffs and solos being played. Right now, they're playing the CARS, which followed Aretha Franklin, Cuts Like A Knife by the guy I'd prefer never have to listen to again in my life, and a horrible take on Eddie Money. Now it's the CARS again, this time with Let The Good Times Roll. Oh, boy, yay, that's what I want to hear at 9:00 on a Friday night in the backyard, in the kitchen and sitting on the stoop trying to relax.  In a residential neighborhood with some screwy zoning that allows amplified music outdoors. I can't not fucking hear it.

This city appears to be headed in the absolute wrong direction. Can well amplified bands play feet from a sidewalk as loud as they like after 7, 8. 9:00? How about 10:00? How about 9 am on a Sunday morning? The cops probably don't even know what the city code says about noise levels after a certain hour and I bet they wouldn't even be able to find their decibel meter, if they even have one that works.