Let's get one thing straight: if it's your pal's birthday and you intend on getting wasted and yelling, "Happy birthday, Loretta," then the Holopaw [ tickets ] and Iron and Wine show is probably not the place for you.

Saturday night (4/9) at Hollywood's Knitting Factory, Loretta and her friends joined a sold-out, hipster crowd for two Florida groups with a penchant for quiet, introspective music.

Despite the occasional outbursts, there remained an air of delight in the room--both onstage and in the audience--at Saturday's show. It was there the moment Sam Beam--the shy, bearded singer/songwriter behind Iron and Wine--took the stage with just his acoustic guitar. Dressed like a high school trigonometry teacher, Beam just smiled and said, "Thanks for comin'" in his lazy Florida accent. Then he fingerpicked through nearly 90 minutes of sad chords and soft dirges.

After being joined by "my sister Sarah and my friend Patrick," another bearded gent, on banjo, and then a drummer (also bearded) and a bassist (no beard), Beam gave the fans a bouquet of beautiful songs, several of which came from his splendid debut album, "The Creek Drank the Cradle."

With Patrick thumping a xylophone, Beam and his sister harmonized beautifully on "Bird Stealing Bread." "Sodom, South Georgie" and "Naked as we Come" each brought to mind the subtle grace of Nick Drake and a hint of country Neil Young. "Upward Over the Mountain" was stirring, sublime blues hidden beneath the veneer of a poignant letter to Mother.

Iron and Wine's music recalls simpler times. These tunes are defined by their poetic lyrics, sentimental arrangements and antique sound. They are about longing, death, love and friendship, and they deserve a quiet audience. And Iron and Wine played for a focused audience--until Loretta and her friends lost it, that is.

After a particularly stirring reading, the roomful of Hollywood hipsters applauded eagerly, Beam smiled, eyeing the laces of his shoes like a shy kid asking a girl out for the first time. Loretta (or one of her friends) yelled, "You're beautiful," and Beam said, "You mean Sarah? Oh, you mean Patrick?" No doubt, Beam is a convincing troubadour in more ways than one.

Thankfully, most fans embraced Beam with a respect and devotion seldom seen these days. These people were shushing each other at the hint of a wayward peep. Looking like a real-life Papa Smurf, the singer thanked his fans repeatedly until Loretta acted up yet again. Finally exhausted by the rambunctious group, he looked out at them and said, "What's wrong with you guys?" The crowd laughed in unison at that one.

Then, Iron and Wine closed with a memorable encore that included a cover of The Flaming Lips' "Superman," off '99's "The Soft Bulletin."

Like Sam Beam, show-opener Holopaw's John Orth also sings poetic and haunting lyrics about life, death, love and people. Only his six-piece band is a little more straight-up modern rock. Dressed in a denim shirt, dusty jeans and a faded cap, Orth held the microphone in both hands with closed eyes while he and Holopaw played an all-too-short 40-minute set.

They took the traditions of folk and mixed them with sound effects and jangly rock, producing a subtle-yet-psychedelic sound. Keyed in by Orth's vulnerable vocals, these songs, like those of Iron and Wine, demanded a hushed audience. But, as Holopaw went into their final song, a voice called out, "Happy birthday, Loretta!" And Orth simply said, "Hey, happy birthday, Loretta." Unknowingly, he had let loose the monster.

After the show, Beam probably forgave him, for how could Orth know what he had encouraged?