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Whether it be the photos of Syracuse University friends still sprinkled throughout their Instagram feed, their stashed SU sweatshirts or the frequent visits they’ve made to campus, Claud Mintz’s memories still lie here.

The 21-year-old bedroom pop artist — who is signed to singer-songwriter Phoebe Bridgers’ record label, Saddest Factory — released their debut album, “Super Monster,” in February. Mintz’s music has already amassed millions of listens on Spotify, and it includes nods to SU, which they left over two years ago.

The two-year accumulation of songs making up “Super Monster” isn’t just a collection of tracks about relationships, but it’s also Mintz’s reflection on being non-binary and on self-discovery.

The album’s fifth song, “Cuff Your Jeans,” references Day Hall and Oakwood Cemetery. SU was the place where they performed at house shows and studied in the Newhouse School of Public Communications’ Bandier Program. Where they met their best friends.

Going to SU is how Mintz met their co-collaborator Josh Mehling, who produced three of the album’s tracks. It’s how Mintz and their close SU friends Mehling, Noa Getzug and Claire Cottrill — also known as singer-songwriter Clairo — came together as a band called Shelly. The artist hasn’t let go of the memories they made during their freshman year and beyond, including those of first-week jitters.

• • •

Mintz was an introvert growing up in the suburbs outside of Chicago, but nothing stopped them from roaming over to both Cottrill and Mehling during a Bandier meet-and-greet their first week on campus.

After spotting Mehling and his “cool” sweater, Mintz walked over and introduced themself. Soon, the three freshmen would hang out on Marshall Street, grab snacks at the Mount’s Junction and attend house shows at underground venues such as Space Camp.

For Mintz, the houses gave an 18-year-old kid from Highland Park, Illinois the chance to gain confidence performing in front of an audience. Mintz recalled performing their first house show in Space Camp’s living room on an “unplugged night,” with a borrowed guitar in hand and people sitting around them. No one judged.

“I felt like I could play the worst show in the world, but everyone would treat it like I did something amazing,” they said.

While searching the web one day, Mintz dug up a breezy, minute-long guitar loop on Mehling’s SoundCloud. Mintz asked Mehling for the instrumental and began to tinker with it, writing over the instrumental and adding their soft vocals on top.

Mehling recalled Mintz showing him the recreated track on the upper level of Marshall Square Mall. He freaked out. “This was the sickest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. Before going to SU, Mehling never had a collaborator like Mintz — when he was at home in Houston, he often spent time alone in his bedroom messing around with beats. The recycled instrumental became Mintz and Mehling’s first track, “Onetwothree.”

The fifth song on Mintz’s debut, “Cuff Your Jeans,” references Oakwood Cemetery and Day Hall. Courtesy of Jeremy Reynoso

The two continued to make music during the course of their spring semester. Both Mintz and Mehling sent instrumentals back and forth, working with each other to create a five-song EP. The duo decided to call themselves “Toast,” and the two freshmen sent their music to indie labels. Eventually, they connected with Max Wortman of Terrible Records, who helped them release their EP in August 2018.

Over the summer, the head singer of The Marías, María Zardoya, direct-messaged Mintz on Instagram and asked if Toast wanted to go on tour as their opener — “We love Toast,” Mintz recalled Zardoya saying. With their sophomore year looming, Mehling decided to stay in school, but Mintz wanted to test it out. So, Mintz took the semester off and hopped into their black 2009 Toyota RAV4 to travel around the U.S. for four weeks.

“They were ready,” Mehling said. “They were ready to go out and take over the world.”

Two years, many tours and a branding change — “there was like a million other ‘Toasts’” — later, Mintz, now Claud, has become a full-time musician. They never came back to SU.

• • •

Getzug didn’t like the way her Gibson sounded when plugged into her computer, so she opted for her iPhone instead. It was around April 2020, the beginning of the pandemic, and like everyone else, the then-SU sophomore felt bored at home.

To cope, she picked up her guitar, began strumming around and created a loop over voice memos. Getzug then sent it over to Mehling, who, within the same day, added drums, synths and piano, forming a beat.

“Do you mind if I send this to Claud,” Mehling texted.

“Go for it,” Getzug texted back.

By the end of the week, Mintz crafted a full-fledged song. It’s a tendency for the 21-year-old to be hands-on and learn to do things by themselves. In high school, Mintz taught themself guitar chords by watching NPR’s “Tiny Desk Concerts” and practiced songwriting by scribbling through notebooks. And for their debut album years later, they spent two days designing their album’s cover on Adobe Illustrator.

“Claud is such a DIY,” Mehling said. “Claud can literally do everything.”

After leaving SU, Mintz found ways to stay connected with friends. They would travel to Syracuse when they were free, and Mehling would visit Cottrill and Mintz in New York City, too. During Mehling’s sophomore year, he, Getzug, Mintz and other friends would hang out in Mehling’s Farm Acre apartment, watching YouTube videos and listening to music. Mintz and Mehling still text practically everyday.

But during the pandemic, Mintz, Cottrill, Getzug and Mehling were scattered across the country. To cure their boredom, the four made an iMessage group chat and began collaborating. Together, they created Shelly, a band that, over the course of 2020, created music with one another by sending instrumentals to each other constantly.

Shelly dropped two songs — “Steeeam” and ”Natural” — on Oct. 30, which have gained over a million listens each on Spotify. And if someone scrolls down past the track listing, they’d see in small print the EP’s made-up label name, “Orange Hill Records.” The four thought the name fit perfectly.

After Mehling graduates, he and Mintz hope to room together in a New York City apartment — one with a spare bedroom set aside for a home studio. Mintz is currently based in Brooklyn.

Mintz is still connected to Bandier, too. They offer guidance to students in the program, and last September, participated in the David M. Rezak Music Business Lecture Series with Cottrill.

Bill Werde, the director of Bandier, keeps track of his former student through social media, and he sometimes shoots them a text. Early on, Mintz would ask him for advice, but now the two usually check in with each other, or Werde congratulates them on a new accomplishment.

“It’s increasingly obvious to me that this is what Claud was put on this Earth to do,” Werde said.

But just a couple years ago, Werde was concerned. He felt that the buzz wasn’t there yet, that Mintz needed to build more of a base. “My perspective was this industry can really chew you up and spit you out,” Werde said.

He’s glad they didn’t listen.

Published on March 10, 2021 at 11:10 pm

Contact Christopher: cscargla@syr.edu | @chrisscargs