Shit happens. Just ask Victoria Williams, who was on the road with Neil Young when the first symptoms of her multiple sclerosis appeared, forcing her to drop out of a tour she'd waited a lifetime for, to deal with the immediacy of a debilitating disease and no health insurance. Or ask Vic Chestnutt, left paralyzed from the waist down after a car crash, unable for a full year to even move his hands, much less play his beloved guitar.

If you ask either one what comes after the shit hits the fan, they'd most likely tell you a story about how tragedy can be transformed into triumph. Artists rallied behind Williams in 1992 to establish the Sweet Relief Musicians Fund, putting out a fine album of the wee-voiced singer's songs; the likes of Pearl Jam, Lou Reed and Michelle Shocked contributed their services for that first "Sweet Relief" album, with proceeds going both to Williams and other musicians facing medical hardship.

This second benefit record is an equally strong effort, neatly avoiding pathos and sentimentality by highlighting Chestnutt's eloquent songwriting skills. From the opening salvo, a dreamy version of "Kick My Ass" courtesy of Garbage, it's clear that this album would be worth buying even if the profits were going straight into the pockets of some major label suit. When Shirley Manson moans, "I'm so sorry a scuffle ensued/ But things are much better now/ I guess thanks to you" it's a moment that transcends poignancy with that wicked bit of humor. R.E.M.'s cover of "Sponge" is a shimmering low-key howl, with Michael Stipe's raw vocal reaching through the speakers to grab straight at the listener's gut. Even the usually insipid Hootie and the Blowfish -- here teamed up with Nanci Griffith -- manage to render a respectable countrified version of "Gravity of the Situation."

Highlights include Throwing Muses' Kristin Hersh ("Panic Pure"), whose delicate guitar picking and throaty voice are a revelation in this evocative tale of days long gone, while Cracker's "Withering" finds David Lowery setting aside his propensity for atonal delivery to serve up a straightforward dose of spare wordplay. "What about the girl you left at the altar," he asks sadly. "Now now now she is planning your funeral."

Shit does indeed happen. But with a little help from your friends, so does hope. What a sweet relief, indeed.

By Julene Snyder