I had a neighbor two doors down - sad story over time, actually, but I'll skip along - who was out of her tree about the guy who played bongos in the place next door to her. He didn't do it that often, usually a sunday afternoon, and we enjoyed his drumming. At what was thus three doorways away, it was perfect music to garden by, weed by.
She got him back by taking out her spaghetti pot and and a metal kitchen implement and doing some drumming herself, but not at the same time he did. It was clearly retributive. He eventually moved, and I hope not because of her.
He was a person of color and that was the seventies, so it might have been a combo thing - I think it was, from some remark or other.
Then we have my husband and I calling the police on the mad-guitarist-at-full-blast-with-no melody-not even chords of any sort. He moved too, but we almost did before him.
Finally, an old boss lived in a lively apartment complex, and was staying up a lot of the night to right a medical paper. So when the extremely loud music emanated from across the courtyard and requests for them to shut it up were to no avail, he set the alarm and his stereo system newly facing out his window for 5 a.m. The needle was set on Tchaikovsky's cannon sequence in the 1812 overture, at full volume. He quickly shut the window.
I agree with anyone who mentions that this punished the entire building, but, still, I think of it as a good story.