This was a short story I read in a sci fi anthology in the nineties, however the book had stories from the 1950’s and 1960’s in it. I really can't remember the cover.
The tale begins with a prospector/oil explorer or similar, a man whose job had him way out in the lonely American deserts for 3 or 4 months at a time.
His usual thing once he returned to small town civilization was to check into a lodging house, have a bath and get changed, then head to a barber's for a haircut and a shave. (Not sure but I think he had a co-worker who did the same)
While in there his practice was to regale the hairdresser and clientele with yarns about the silence and unchanging scenery out there, they would sigh with envy because of their non-peaceful busy lives.
Until one day he sat in the chair and casually mentioned where he'd been and how totally quiet it was, the barber turned with a threatening finger pointing at him and warned him to cut out that kind of talk if he knew what was good for him, or else he might get railroaded out of town.
Puzzled, he asked what was going on, he was told to look out the window. He observed how tidy the town looked, all cars waxed and gleaming, picket fences and houses freshly painted, well scrubbed children out playing in crisply laundered clothes.
The incident had happened months ago, TV and radio stopped working worldwide, newspapers revealed it to be some strange solar activity and it kept blocking the signals. The barber told him that initially people were going to the cinema but that was an expensive undertaking on a regular basis and not convenient every night.
Nobody knew who it was but within a few days a housewife banged a couple of paint tins down in front of her bored husband and it all kicked off from then. Now everyone filled the long empty hours with decorating projects and home-making.
He warned the man that, in this new world, people could be lynched for extolling the virtues of quiet.
Note: I thought this was Bradbury but I can't find it in his short stories.