Before k.d. lang, before Jewel, there were two girls with guitars

It was 1986. The Bangles belted "Manic Monday" from radios nationwide as yuppies cruised around cities in their BMWs, and Phyllis Schlafly told women to leave corporate America to raise their children. Meanwhile, the Indigo Girls, two activist singer-songwriters in the tradition of Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, cut their first single.

It might seem like Indigo Girls Emily Saliers and Amy Ray were born at the wrong time: Dylan and Baez were lucky enough to emerge as vibrant, liberal artists during an era ripe with political and social unrest. The maturation of Saliers and Ray as musicians and activists, however, coincided with the 1980s — a time when the chief concern of many young people was finding high-paying jobs and social prestige.

But when Saliers was asked in a recent interview if she ever wished she were Dylan's contemporary, she did not pause before giving an emphatic no. "There is plenty to do here and now," she said, referring to a wealth of current political and social causes she and Ray actively champion.

It is not difficult to figure out what issues the Indigo Girls care about. In their past two albums' liner notes, they provide the names and addresses of some of their favorite nonprofits. The list includes progressive magazines, gay rights groups, environmental campaigns and feminist organizations.

Working on these causes means making benefit concerts a part of their tour schedules and participating in diversity awareness programs. For example, a few months ago the group played at the University of Connecticut as part of a gay-awareness program. They also participated in a question-and-answer session at which students could ask questions about homosexuality.

But at other appearances that are not part of diversity programming, Saliers and Ray generally do not mention homosexuality or feminism. "We don't use our show as a political platform unless it's been specifically stated that it's a benefit," Ray said. "There's a different nature to it if there's a political purpose."

Both Saliers and Ray said, however, that being feminist lesbians is so central to their identities that their lyrics inevitably reflect that. "Being a female and being gay inform everything I do. It's part of me. It affects what I write," Ray said.

Since then, many have assumed wrongly that Saliers and Ray are a butch-femme couple — blond, artfully poetic Saliers being the femme, and raw, intense Ray being the butch. But from the time they met in junior high when Saliers moved from Connecticut to Ray's native Georgia, they have been nothing but best friends.

Since their first album, they have expanded their exclusively folk-rock repertoire to include songs with a more electric, rock-n-roll sound. But none of their albums — not even any of the earliest ones — is a mere collection of songs that all sound the same, because Saliers and Ray, who do not collaborate on song lyrics, have such different artistic styles.

Roughly half the songs on every album are Saliers' poetic, lyrical creations — her hit, "Closer to Fine," is a particularly fast-paced example of her work. The other half of the songs are by Ray, who wrote "Shaming of the Sun." Her songs, often laced with raw emotion, have a rock-n-roll energy.

Their different styles also come through in performances. On stage, Ray jumps and dances as she executes chord progressions while Saliers' lively but controlled demeanor balances Ray's intensity.

The Indigo Girls have earned a reputation as an unusually engaging live band because of their high energy level, and because they bring their audiences — no matter how far away from Georgia — into a realm of Southern hospitality. After every song, one of them delivers their trademark, "Thanks y'all," with a hint of a Southern accent. They tell quick, funny stories in between songs. And pretty soon there is an intimacy reminiscent of drinking sweet tea out on the porch.

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Their performance at Princeton tomorrow is part of a college tour to promote their newest album, "Come On Now, Social."

"It's a really well-balanced record in terms of the styles of the songs. You know, you have almost Appalachian and then a couple really rock-n-roll songs. And a couple ballads and some Celtic influence in there," said Saliers, an articulate woman who criticized herself the one time during the interview she did not speak in free-flowing complete sentences.

Ray, who seems more off-the-cuff and casual than Saliers, said their newest album is her favorite in seven years. The acoustic parts are especially raw, she said, and the electric parts are "a lot more rocking."

Since their first full album in 1987, the music scene has grown more open to women who are not like Mariah Carey, Paula Abdul or Britney Spears. There has been, recently, a relative explosion of girls with guitars: k.d. lang, Melissa Etheridge, Sarah McLachlan. While the Indigo Girls have been part of this trend toward increased fame and success for female artists, there is, according to Saliers and Ray, a limit to how far they will go.

"There's just a lot of sexism in radio and in the mainstream rock press and in the kind of press and the kind of radio that you need to rise above a certain point that we're at. I think it's really hard," Ray said.

Saliers said the discrimination stems from people seeing her first as a gay artist and then as a female artist — a double disadvantage when those labels are employed in a derogatory manner.

While Ray said she does not mind being considered a gay, female artist, problems arise when that label "becomes a ghetto." Sometimes, though, identifying herself as a gay, female artist seems the right thing to do for the social good, she said.

"I think to make the gay movement or the women's movement strong, it's important to identify yourself and strengthen the subculture," Ray said. "But you don't call a writer a male writer. I go back and forth on the question. I try to do the thing that is going to help the most, but, ultimately, I get tired of everything being derogatory."

She said she understands why gay performers do not come out, though.

"They're afraid of being pigeonholed into certain roles," she said. "They feel like they'll lose a lot."