Dan Cashman, aka DJ Cashman, and George "DJ Snack Attack" Myers are self-described music nerds with a need to share their expansive record collections with the greater public. Together, they are the popular Northampton DJ duo Purity Supreme.

"We started doing house parties first," recalls Cashman. "We basically have a lot of records and we wanted to play them for people, so when friends had parties, we would set up. We didn't even have any equipment at first. I started off at a party using a stereo tuner and going back and forth between the two different channels."

Myers says the idea to spin records for crowds had been percolating for a while: "We actually thought for a while that we should start a DJ crew at some point, like old-school style, doing block parties, kind of like the Sound Clash dudes. We had a preposterous idea that we would try and match what they were doing. We knew that we couldn't, but I think the idea was there."

The two began independently hosting dance nights at the Basement in Northampton, spinning hip-hop, funk, electronic and popular dance music. "That was our first exposure to people we didn't know, an outside crowd," says Myers. "We came in and did a bunch of hip-hop, and some of the stuff the other DJs were doing, and it went over really well."

Cashman has a slightly different memory. "I didn't go over that well during my set. I had people leaving," he says. "I was a little too adventurous. My musical taste—well, a lot of it can be from the 'I like stuff that's obnoxious' school, and I thought it would make sense to play for a group of people. I don't really do that anymore. I think the song that went over the top was 'Jimmy Carter Says Yes.' People were like, 'What is this guy doing?' The track is a 'song poem,' one of those old ads in the back of magazines where people would send in their poems and they would put them to music. I played that. It didn't go over. At all."

Their on-the-job training had begun. "The first couple months of this for me were about finding a part of myself that was about pleasing people instead of just annoying them," says Cashman. "Being in bands, that was always my ultimate goal—being an affront to people's sensibilities."

"I think sometimes he plays things just to annoy me, though," jokes Myers. "He'll play a track that he knows I don't like just to annoy me."

The two truly joined forces when offered a chance to expand their presence at the Basement. "Something at the Basement got cancelled, and they saw that our nights were doing well, a lot of people turning out, so they asked us to do a trial run," Myers says. "We corralled all our friends and said, 'You have to go. It's not even an option.' Everyone came. And I think, because we had a pretty good friend group, they were really forgiving, and we got away with a lot. But it set a nice tone that kept us going."

"That was almost three years ago," adds Cashman. "We've been doing it every week since."

The two learned that a major part of their art was finding a balance in the face of demanding and oft-changing clientele. "One of the things that makes this a really rewarding thing is seeing different waves of people coming every week, so you have to be really prepared, not knowing what the crowd's going to be like at all," says Cashman. "And there are some weeks where there's a certain crowd that wants you to play a very specific thing, play a certain type of music, and if you go away from that, they really let you know. But we'll do what we feel is right anyway. Since day one it's been like trying to find a signature voice versus just trying to give the people what they want."

The two had similar experiences with music during their formative years (both grew up in Eastern Massachusetts). Myers describes a childhood listening to West Coast gangsta rap coupled with the seemingly anachronistic worlds of punk and experimental music. Cashman also describes a dichotomy, one that split allegiances between novelty music and the serious, more message-based hip-hop of the mid- to late '80s, as well as early punk and experimental sounds.

Their backgrounds and current tastes have proven complementary when it comes to placating a crowd of diverse ages. "I basically live in the past as far as music is concerned," Cashman confesses. "I mean, I lack knowledge about most dance music from after 1995, but almost everything I'm playing—people are going to know this or at least see the value in it, because at one time this was the song that was blowing up."

"That's one of the divides," says Myers. "I know a lot of the stuff after 1995. It's one of the things that makes the partnership work."

And the partnership is indeed working. Purity Supreme nights—their traditional slots every Tuesday at the Basement, '80s nights at the Iron Horse, dates at the People's Pint, house parties and scattered soul and "oldies" nights—are consistently packed. The pair are convinced that it is their unerring and obsessive devotion to the music, rather than obedience to flash-in-the-pan trends or technical precision, that keeps Valley audiences coming out and coming back.

"It's all about sharing our love of the music and keeping people happy," says Cashman.

"We don't want to create this thing where we're perfect DJs," adds Myers. "There are people in town who are: they mix things perfect and stuff, but that's not what we're trying to do. It's no slight to them; they're amazing at what they do. We just have a different approach, you know. We're just nerds."

For a complete lineup of Purity Supreme nights around Western Mass., visit: www.myspace.com/purity_supreme.