As for what happened and when, I think we should consider generational effects. I grew up listening to prog rock, followed by punk. Both of those styles were all about personal expression, but in very stylised, artificial ways - the very narrow sonic & lyrical palette of punk & the ridiculously broad palette of prog both militated against songs that were both straightforward and articulate.

So I've never liked 'confessional' singers like Roy Harper and Richard Thompson, or 'protest' singers like Leon Rosselson or Dougie Maclean. If you want to tell me about your innermost feelings, you can write me a letter; if you want to tell me about the Diggers or the class system, you can write a letter to the paper. I always wanted something more from music, or at least something different. (I liked Pentangle and early Steeleye Span - they didn't preach and they sounded good.)

My dislike of singers with well-intentioned and/or introspective stories to tell kept me out of the folk clubs for years. All this time I'd been wanting to sing in public, till finally - at the age of 42 - I bit the bullet and went down to the local folk club. I wasn't expecting much - in fact I was expecting to hear a lot of earnest, well-meaning and rather boring songs, accompanied on acoustic guitar. And I did - but I also heard some great musicians, some fine songwriters and some interesting traditional songs. After a few years of this I discovered that there was a huge traditional repertoire, and that there were a lot of people who knew more of it than I did. These traditional songs made a total contrast with what I thought of as the standard folk club repertoire - they were, by and large, neither introspective nor well-meaning, and they sounded good.

The interesting thing about all this is that I'm still hearing Richard Thompson and Leon Rosselson songs, usually from people quite a bit older than me - but I'm also starting to hear earnestly introspective songs, and earnestly right-on songs, from people half my age. So maybe my generation is the odd one out. For me, Beeswing and Blackwaterside, or The World Turned Upside Down and The Battle of Otterburn, are so different that they might as well be separate art forms - they fit on the same bill about as well as clog-dancing and tai chi. But perhaps that's because of the reaction against earnestness which was very much in the air when I was growing up; perhaps people who grew up in the 00s, like many who grew up in the 50s, don't have that reaction.

In short, I wonder if Jim's right, or at least half-right, about the reason for the decline of the clubs. Here's how it might have gone. By the mid-70s earnestness just wasn't in fashion any more. If the clubs had been full of people singing Searching for Lambs or Two Pretty Boys, this might not have mattered; as it was, they were full of people singing Fire And Rain and Palaces of Gold, and the sophisticated youth of the day took a look and turned away. But it's not because they positively wanted what wasn't being played (traditional songs) - it's because they didn't want what was. Now, in less ironic times, the clubs are filling up again, but again it's not because of demand for traditional songs; it's largely because it's fashionable to wear your hearts on your sleeve again.