TEXT: NEWPORT, R.I. - Billy Bragg and Natalie Merchant were shooting the breeze backstage at Fort Adams State Park before the start of Saturday's benefit concert for Shake-A-Leg when producer Gary Smith informed them that it was the 30th anniversary of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech. A few seconds later, the three friends joined hands, formed a semicircle and sang "We Shall Overcome." Now, these are punk-rock generation people so there was a trace of tart humor in it -- overcome is a mighty big word in these days of sliding social justice and diminished expectations -- but these artist-activists are not hardened cynics. And a genuine sense of optimism -- much more so than at most benefit concerts -- suffused the six-act, five-hour show headlined by hometown favorites Belly.

Shake-A-Leg, a rehabilitation and recreation organization for people with spinal cord injuries, raised $30,000, but just as importantly, said founder Harry Horgan, raised "awareness -- we're reaching people that are (at risk) to be injured."

Horgan and his friend Peter Benson -- a graduate of Shake-A-Leg who cofounded a group called Attention To Prevention -- were, however, miffed by the sporadic body surfing that occurred during Belly's set. "It's nuts," said Benson, 24, a paraplegic who was injured six years ago in a bike accident. "You wish you could explain how dangerous it could be." Implored Belly bassist Gail Greenwood: "Be ever so gentle when you drop them."

About 3,700 people made the trek to the Fort and the day, which began in brutal heat and cooled down during the afternoon. Later, the weather turned ominous, but Shake-A-Leg got the whole thing in -- although there were doubts during Belly's slam-bam, slightly truncated, set. The wind whipped through singer-guitarist Tanya Donelly's hair and lightning danced in the distance. "I love you, but I'm not gonna die for you," she said, picking up the pace, slashing through "Slow Dog." Just after Belly left the stage a major lightning bolt cracked the sky. Donelly laughed, shot the bolt an obscene gesture and yelled "That had my name on it!" She won.

An alternating current seemed to run through the event: Call it a fist raised in defiance coupled with a certain pensiveness, perhaps the nature of disabilty itself. Musically, the former was exemplified by Bragg, who from the stage dissed the yachting types in the harbor: "They're rich enough people to have a speedboat, but not real enough people to afford the ticket." The latter was exemplified by Merchant, who sang four spare, pensive 10,000 Maniacs songs, accompanying herself on piano. Yet, Bragg and Merchant found common ground together for "Jolene," "Summertime/Bread and Circuses" and a slapdash version of the Monkees' "Daydream Believer."

In a booth out on the grounds, there was confrontational humor expressed by artist Jesse Higman, 25, a quadriplegic who has limited use of his arms. Higman is from Seattle and is a rock 'n' roll artist who's done work for Alice in Chains among others. He was part of this year's Lollapalooza tour and hated it -- " brutally capitalistic, no art or politics" -- and loved the tongue-in-cheek name some of the Shake-A-Leg folks were using for this benefit, Parapalooza. He said wants to create a T-shirt that employs the joke "What do you call a quadriplegic on a wall? Art" with a drawing of himself in his chair stuck up on the wall. "It's hard to deny you're in a wheelchair," said Higman, who was in a car crash 10 years ago. "These incident-life changes you can' predict. But I probably wouldn't have become an artist without it, and realizing how fragile life is has made me appreciate it more."

Strolling the site, Boston comic-activist Barry Crimmins observed, "Ten years ago people couldn't have dealt with people in wheelchairs like they are here. But unchallenged people seem to take the others much more in stride."

Musically, it was a sharp mix, from folk to rock. Bob Kendall opened up with solid acoustic set; Tackle Box and Buffalo Tom contributed taut, hard-rocking sets touching upon punk-rock cornerstones like the Velvet Underground and Husker Du, and then Bragg came on with his tender, yet brash, punk-folk. No one mixes love and politics as well as this British vet; "Sexuality" and "Accident Waiting to Happen" and a new song, "This Gulf Between Us" ("No warmth filters down from the dark that lies in the gulf between us") were highlights.

Merchant's set was low-key, heartfelt -- and her songs had more emotional pull uncluttered by the Maniacs oft-samey swirl. "Of course I was nervous, but I'm always nervous," said Merchant, "but it helped having Billy here for the covers."

Two final takes on the day from two friends. Donelly: "Awesome. Fun. Wicked fun." Horgan: "Times are changing. It's up to the disabled to take charge of themselves. That's our focus." In other words, Donelly and Horgan were in agreement.