Max and Spencer Ernst speak in a rhythm of unconscious give-and-takes, push-and-pulls.

“We’re so on the same page that people won’t even know sometimes what we’re saying,” Spencer said of their relationship. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s almost like we’re in the zone together. When we’re writing, Max will say something, and he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence.”

Spencer turned to his identical twin brother, who shares his same tannish-blonde hair, his same love for music.

“What else are you thinking about?” he asked.

“That’s what I’m thinking about,” Max replied.

Their exteriors are carbon copies, save Spencer’s almost shoulder-length hair. Their history is extensive: They’ve played at the 9:30 Club and worked with producer Stacy Jones (Plain White T’s, American Hi-Fi), among other accomplishments.

The twin senior environmental science majors have played music since they can remember, evolving through songs about Santa Claus to poppy hits to a natural sound closer to home in the four-member Walking Sticks, which released its first album World So Bright in June. The Walking Sticks played as a part of the Stamp Friday Showcase at Nyumburu Amphitheater Friday afternoon and Looney’s Pub Saturday night, officially announcing their releases to the city of College Park, where the band was born.

And they have no plans of slowing down after graduation.

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Max and Spencer are from Silver Spring, but the woodsy part of Silver Spring, near the Northwest Branch Anacostia River. They grew up hiking there with their father and dog. Their father would collect walking sticks. The concept stuck.

“It’s an important thing for us,” Spencer said. “It’s a simple thing to have on a walk, and it makes a big difference.”

It’s always silent back there, they said. No distractions. The perfect chance to talk about music. Stevie, their pit bull mix, would accompany them. The twins, who commute from home, still go on hikes with their dog.

When they were younger, the twins’ musical moniker was Spax (a combination of their names), then Time-Out and Code Red (which they changed after the sniper attacks hit Washington), Upslide in middle school years and Trust Fall in high school. The Walking Sticks is their college form.

They said they don’t like describing their music; that type of classification puts them in a box. But their sound trends toward an acoustic, experimental feeling that emphasizes three-part harmonies, creating a natural sound inspired by the woods.

It’s so important to them that they came into college as business majors hoping to make the Walking Sticks their business one day. But the classes didn’t appeal to them, so they switched to a more interesting science major.

——————-

Max and Spencer started out playing the Washington-area Catholic school circuit.

That was the time of Upslide, one of their earlier bands, which they formed with teenage friends. They once played on a float in a Kensington parade. The twins call their adolescent years their creative time, when they could experiment with all kinds of music.

The tides turned in high school when the twins were discovered by a New York management company. They became Trust Fall, a duo with a new streamlined focus: writing songs for the label. Getting a record deal. Becoming famous.

They wrote from their hearts, they said, but with a more poppy element and an increased pressure to make it big. As a result, they weren’t as free.

“We just got pigeonholed when we were younger because we were twins,” Max said. “People tried to box us into that.”

The twins are almost exactly alike in every way, Max said. Yet their sources of musical growth — their defining moments — have been different.

Max is gay. Coming out to Spencer was a weight off his chest, he said, and allowed him to be more honest in his life – including in his music.

For Spencer, the transition came from an accident. During his sophomore year in high school, he was weight lifting when another bar rolled off a machine and hit him. He was stuck at home for a bit and had double vision for a month.

More and more, he had time to start thinking about new songs, different directions.

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The twins juggled school and the band. They traveled the country frequently while attending all-male Gonzaga College High School in Washington, missing school for trips to Virginia or New York. Their teachers were understanding.

At the end of high school, when there was a deal on the table with Epic Records, the twins were told they could either defer from college or forget the deal. That was the turning point, Max and Spencer said.

They deferred until spring semester.

The deal didn’t go through.

“It was pretty shady,” Spencer said. “Up until that point, we were being told by management to write songs to sign for the label.”

——————-

Max and Spencer sat in the tables outside Stamp Student Union’s Coffee Bar, one of the last late-September suns spreading a warm glow over them. They glanced at each other as they talked. Two identical coffee travel cups sat on the table. Max faced the sun, sporting sunglasses.

“We’ll just sit there and say, ‘If we didn’t play music, what the hell would we do with the time?’” Spencer said.

“We can’t remember a time when we haven’t played music,” Max added. “It’s a part of our identity.”

After graduation, the possibilities are endless. They’ve decided they’ll go where the music takes them and pin down part-time jobs to make it work.

“We’re not chasing after something with the music that we’re playing,” Max said. “We’re doing it because we love it.”

When they played Friday in an autumn sunshine, Spencer sported a red and black checkered shirt while Max wore blue plaid. Spencer’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail; Max’s was cut short. At the end of the concert, they looked out at the audience, bearing the same wide smile.