The concept of chinmoku wa kin (silence is golden) isn't a Tokyo thing. Like a lot of other nifty modernities, such as buttered pancakes and the subway system, it was imported into Japan and adopted into city living when the country opened up to the West in the late 19th century.
Up until then, silence or quietness was strictly a samurai domain. For those guys, reticence was cool. For city folk, though, life was too short and too busy; few people had time to waste on saying nothing. Out on the streets, hawkers shouted about the virtues of their wares, while in houses wives chatted about their chores and children. In shops and market stalls, the hum of voices was one continuous drone.
Crows circled the skies to make a commotion; dogs roamed the river banks and barked all night. In the gated brothel districts, geisha played their instruments and sang love songs, while clients ingratiated themselves to the high-end yujo (prostitutes) via raucous conversation. All day, the city existed in a continuous, cacophonous, stir.