Anyone old enough to recall the glory days of punk will remember the shock of the Sex Pistols, The Clash and The Stranglers. They weren't just loud and angry: they were unexpected, and completely shook up a bloated and self-satisfied music business.
Punk is (and was) visceral and raw: never mind skill or musical ability, feel the energy. It delighted in upsetting the establishment, from the monarchy to the BBC. The more offence you could cause, the greater the impact.
But what happens when the establishment turns punk? The idea of Eric Pickles as Sid Vicious, thrashing his guitar to the single chord of 'localism, localism, localism' might not be that far-fetched. We suddenly have a government that delights in using language like 'busting open the established way of doing things' and has left its critics bemused and bamboozled by the scale and speed of its spending cuts.
Where its predecessors irked the public with extensive consultations that appeared to have little effect by the time they'd worked their way through the policy maze, the coalition derides consultation as 'expensive local talking shops' and suggests that issuing a press release is sufficient information for the public.
Where the Labour administrations set up quangos to provide an independent voice for particular interests (such as the Food Standards Agency or Commission for Rural Communities) the coalition delights in announcing their closure, usually with their powers reverting to ministers.
To return to the punk analogy, it's Anarchy in the UK - but run from Whitehall.
Local government and those who represent voluntary organisations and community groups don't know where to turn. They're still used to operating through the polite bureaucratic mechanisms set up in the past: you respond to government consultations, put in your detailed papers to influence legislation, make your views known in appropriate forums or meetings with regional government offices.
But while they're still tuning up their symphony orchestras, punk is the only show in town. And at least some of the people are loving it: the Treasury's Spending Challenge website, for example, has become a bear pit where anyone with bile or vitriol to spare can have a shout (as well as any wannabe comedian).
So how should communities respond? First, perhaps, by recognising that punk reflects some real anger and frustration with the way things have been, and a need to inject new energy into stale processes.
But the response should also recognise the destructive forces that have been unleashed. Simply turning the amp up to 11 won't help: it will just drown out the voices that have always been drowned out.
Perhaps what we need instead is jazz cities: communities and collections of interests who come together to create their own harmonies. Instead of seeing who can yell the loudest, they see how everyone can find their own way to contribute to the music. There's a sharing of interests, a chance for different people to shine at different times, and encouragement of creativity.
Jazz cities are flexible and able to respond to the mood of the audience. They emphasise informality and opportunity. They combine structure and spontaneity. In a punk world, that may be just what we need.