When I lived in S. Marinella, the batty old lady who lived upstairs used to have regular screaming matches with her daughter, and was stone deaf to boot. As someone born to a couple who were almost incapable of exchanging morning greetings to each other without launching a shrieking fight, I'm a little sensitive to such things and strongly objected to having it imposed on me by total strangers in my own home.
So, I trained them. I have very good speakers, and taking a lesson from Pavlov, whenever the screaming started, would play Vivaldi's Four Seasons at full volume. It took a while for them to learn but it did finally work. The screaming matches were greatly reduced at the persistent and consistent reminder that there was someone quite close by who had nothing to do with any of it, but was being forced to share the joy.
Well we're making progress in Norcia. It seems that the Gashlycrumb Noisies, (the Polish couple who live upstairs) appear to have got the message that the rave music ("music") is not on. Not today or tomorrow, at any volume or any time of day or night, EVER. But the pseudo-Gregorian New Age versions of old Simon and Garfunkel tunes, though for completely different reasons, are not really a huge improvement. Maybe we could talk about "volume" next.
But I suppose even synthesized versions of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme are an improvement over the shrieking domestic psycho-drama.
Since any one of us suddenly and miraculously turning into a grownup over night is probably too much to ask, I figure it's either call the cops or...