The Man can't bust our music. Oh, wait.

Turns out the man CAN bust our music.
Here is some of the Man who busted our music tonight:
Hey, just a suggestion here, but if you don’t dig live music, don’t move to the fucking epicenter of the live music capital of the fucking world, mmkay?
Had a little gig tonight at Opal Divine’s downtown with the Savage Trip. (Don’t google us—we’re too cool for that shit.) 
Playing on the outdoor stagelet in the blissful sub-triple-digit degree evening. First set, everything’s going great, having a great time, nice and loose but controlled little set.
Then I guess I notice after we finish “Captain, Captain” (really transcendent, I thought) there were these cops having a conclave on the sidewalk in front of the club. Two car cops and two bike cops in all, eventually. Would that be a phalanx?
And I think nothing of it, because it’s Thursday night, there’s clubs hopping nearby and, you know, they are there to keep the assholes in line.
But it turned out the assholes was us. 
There was a noise complaint, supposedly. The only residences that could possibly be in earshot are two condo buildings—one a block away, the other a bit further. 
And as it turned out, the cops never bothered to measure our sound level, because the club could’t produce the little slip of paper from the CoA that said they were a live music establishment. They HAVE the little slip of paper somewhere, but they couldn’t find it. So it was moot—it didn’t even matter if we were over the decibel limit. 
I mean, this place has been there for, what, twelve years? And they’ve always had a little bit of live music. Hell, they do SXSW there every year. Everyone knows this, yet because there’s not a slip of paper to validate it, it doesn’t matter.  
BTW, if you have your slip of paper, your decibel limit can’t exceed an average of 85 decibels when measured over a minute from the sidewalk—I asked the cops. They were cool, not being jerks, just doing their jobs, and the club got a warning not a fine. 
But I mean, come on. I was playing drums against a cinder block wall that was between me and those buildings. And this is not a band that tries to be loud. Far from it. I use little bitty 7A drumsticks, for God sakes. 
Oh, and this is Spot. He was the soundman tonight. Just your average legendary record producer, running sound at Opal’s on Thursday night in the Live Music Capital of the World®, where they’ve never made playing live music very easy.