There was once a time the local pub was a focal point, initiating such pastimes as morris dancing or, in the case of the cricketers arms, Wisborough Green, the ignoble art of lawnmower racing. On slack days the landlord tolerated folk singers, who were escaping from cold draughty houses to nick some heat off mine host's blazing open fires. Now the price of booze, breathalyzer, closure of pubs, central heated homes etc etc conspire to inhibit the gatherings of the people unless strongly motivated. This obviously had an impact on the club's existence and popularity. Progress probably arrested the folk revival but can you gauge the state of the genre just in terms of club numbers(which in itself is notoriously difficult to determine with any accuracy)
   A Noson Lawen, cèilidh,Troyl all preceded folk clubs and were originally gathering at people's houses and later village halls or their equivalents. The singing had to take its turn among the dancing and storytelling. For a purist these gatherings were the real McCoy and folk clubs a poor plastic impersonation. Now another transition is occurring, but flux is the way of the world, no matter how much Canutes decry it. Far better to accept that it is not dying, merely transitioning.