What really motivates you to make music?
Across his work as a producer, curator, and founder of Affin, Joachim Spieth has long pursued a sonic language rooted in introspection and elemental depth. His collaborations and solo works alike trace a dialogue between interiority and space, presence and impermanence. On Conversion, his second album with fellow sound sculptor Markus Guentner, this dialogue attains a remarkable poise: a convergence of resonance and restraint, of lived experience and shared intuition. In this conversation, Spieth reflects on creative trust, the endurance of meaning in an age of saturation, and the quiet art of allowing music to unfold at its own pace.
Upon listening, your collaboration with Markus Guentner on Conversion carries a sense of deep resonance, not only between two artists but between two worldviews borne of time and experience. When I spoke with Markus earlier this year, he described how coincidence and unpredictability fuel his process, and I wonder from your side what it was about this dialogue that allowed Conversion, with its language of genesis, veils, and hidden ciphers, to become greater than the sum of its parts. Did you feel it opened new doors in your own approach to sound?
Certainly, Markus and I have developed our own style as music producers over the past 25 years and have evolved both stylistically and technically as we have been creating our own worlds with our music and ideas. We share the same starting point, which was called Kompakt back then, and then it morphed into “Pop Ambient.” It’s funny because we both started releasing music there, but despite living fairly close to each other in southern Germany, we didn’t actually connect until years later, and even then, we met in person much later still. To tell you more about the Conversion album and our collaboration, we produced the album in the fall and winter of 2024. This is our second release as the duo Guentner + Spieth.
Without really having a specific goal or strategy, we naturally ended up discussing our musical roots during regular video calls. We spoke extensively about labels and artists we both considered influential a long time ago, and that we still consider to be influential. Repeatedly, we discovered that, independently of one another, we had many similar preferences and tastes. Through our conversations, we found a shared understanding of what might be possible musically for us to develop, and some creative ideas emerged that we were excited to try out. All of this, however, took place in casual conversations, and so there was never a plan to achieve this exactly. At some point, I simply started working on an idea and, after a while, I sent it to Markus. He had also looked through some of his material, and one thing led to another.
We soon noticed our music was beginning to reflect those earlier conversations, and a clearer musical direction started to take shape. Unlike the first album, this second album was never really urgent or compulsory to produce; everything just flowed naturally. A lot was unclear after the first album, Overlay, but one thing was always crystal clear: we didn’t want to repeat the same formula. Something special about working with Markus is that there is, on the one hand, a shared sense of ease in what we are doing, and on the other, a kind of musical trust that has developed between us. We can rely on each other and there are no lengthy or exhausting discussions about how something should be done. Instead, we listen, evaluate individually, and decide if we can add something or leave it as it is. This approach helped us trust the process and let things unfold naturally. In my opinion, we have embraced our specific preferences, and we now view them in a new light.
Since founding Affin in 2007, you’ve created not just a label but a vessel for immersive, timeless soundscaping. Across its catalogue, there is a clear thread of integrity, music that resists cultural transience and insists on what I would term perennial depth (perhaps almost a defiance of glib trends and ephemera?). How do you understand Affin’s ethos today, as the label approaches its second decade in an era increasingly marked by algorithmic churn and AI-generated simulacra? And does a record like Conversion, with its sense of metamorphosis, vortex-like pull, and quantum indeterminacy, mirror that philosophical undercurrent, or does it stand apart as a unique moment within your broader trajectory?
I’m glad to hear how you view the label. When I was thinking about starting one many years ago, there were several motivating factors. For one thing, it was important to me to be able to operate independently. Through my experience with other labels up to that point, I had learned to appreciate certain approaches as effective, while there were things I wanted to do differently as a label operator. From the outset, Affin was intended to be a platform, a playing field where people could come together and develop their ideas. Short-term commercial success was never the main focus, although it quickly became clear that a label had to be profitable in the long term, and not just in relation to a single project, in order to be able to continue.
Compared to some other labels, I tried to create distinct corners and niches for different artists. Ideally, the whole label should always have several musical entry points for listeners. This stems largely from my own musical taste, which is clearly defined but not confined to a single genre. This belief has been the core idea behind Affin since 2007, and even today, I still see the whole label issue in basically the same way. Over the past two decades, the colour nuances within the framework of what is possible or desirable have become clearer. The relatively early digitisation of the music industry has opened up opportunities, but it has also revealed a number of weaknesses that we are all struggling with. The “too much,” the “always available,” the “completely public” has taken away some of the magic of music and, to a certain extent, devalued it both monetarily and culturally in certain areas. The desire to “discover” has been followed by oversaturation, which has made it more difficult to reach the target audience. Nevertheless, there is still a group of people who need music like the air they breathe, and rallying these people around us is the challenge we face.
We constantly try different approaches across various communication channels and formats to see what works and what needs to be rethought. With some projects, it’s a shame to see that they could attract much more attention if only we could break through and reach listeners. But at some point, you have to consider how much information one person can process in a day. When you look at all the players in our music industry, you realise that at a certain point, it’s simply not possible to do much more without a great effort or expense. It’s essential to me to be clear about the musical messages we convey. That’s why I think an album like Conversion reflects our intentions quite well. We don’t want to get everyone excited about it at any cost. But we value and appreciate what we do, and so we invite anyone who is enthusiastic about it to take part and spend time with the music.
You mentioned how natural and easy the process with Markus felt this time around. Was there a particular moment in the studio, perhaps around a specific track, when you both realised Conversion had found its direction?
Good question, and a difficult one to answer quickly. I’d say no, there wasn’t a specific moment when we consciously realised Conversion had found its direction. As I said earlier, we approached the whole thing rather playfully. While the idea of working on an album was always there in the background, we never sat down and said, “Okay, now let’s focus on making a record.” We simply let things take their natural course.
We had numerous conversations about music, and reconsidered what had influenced us, but while those talks were meaningful, we never let the discussion get too deep or serious. We’d return to the feeling, to the flow, and to the lightness of our conversation. We’re not interested in crafting something in a calculated or overly structured way. What works best for us is an approach that’s relaxed, enjoyable, and leaves room for exploration without pressure. Our new album Conversion is certainly not a product of chance, nor was it mapped out in a strategic, linear way. It’s more like the maturation of a good wine than a marketing concept developed on a drawing board and executed with a thoroughly planned approach. That analogy of a good wine fits quite well (though Markus is more of a wine expert than I am). It reflects all of the relaxed conversations we had, the anticipation of what we could create together, and how our conversations had sparked something in both of us.
The creative process happened gradually as the ideas from our conversations settled in our consciousness over a long period of time and began to naturally form and develop. In fact, the gestation period was just long enough that we didn’t fall into the trap of trying to fully replay the conversations directly in the music. Instead, the music naturally emerged as an extension of the conversation. It became an action and a feeling, something experienced and tangible, not just spoken about. That kind of authenticity and organic creation only comes when you're open, relaxed, and in tune with the moment. It’s important to be aware of the path as it opens up, and have a rough idea of the direction, but without needing to know exactly which path you should take to get there. The path becomes clear only once you’ve started to walk it. It’s okay to get lost along that path sometimes. It’s also okay to approach an idea from different angles, get side-tracked, or circle back; it’s part of the process. I think you can hear all of this on our Conversion album.
Looking back on the journey from Overlay to Conversion, what do you feel you’ve learned most about the art of collaboration, not just in terms of production, but in trust, patience, and creative exchange with another artist?
Maybe the biggest lesson is being able to step back and let the other person take the lead, especially when they’re having a moment of real virtuosity. And also, to applaud. I think that’s an important and underrated social skill. It was certainly an advantage that Markus and I had known each other for a long time before we attempted a music project together. A lot of things had already been clarified between us, and our dynamic was well established. Beyond being an Affin artist, Markus has also handled all the visual aspects of the label for several years now. He’s always closely connected to both the ongoing and past projects, which creates a shared biotope between us, a creative ecosystem. A strong sense of familiarity grows from that, and you quickly notice whether the other person is resonating with you or not, especially when challenges arise.
I see our two albums (Overlay and now Conversion) as episodes of our ongoing collaboration. These albums are just one part of a much broader, continuous exchange between us that extends far beyond the music itself. That’s probably why we feel so relaxed when it comes to the musical side of things. And from my perspective, you can hear that. As a listener, even I couldn’t tell you who contributed what to each track, or who had the bigger share in any given moment, and I think that’s a good thing. What matters is that a distinct identity has formed with a sound that is unmistakably Guentner/Spieth. You can feel both of our inputs, but they blend together in a subtle, unforced way. And I think you can also sense that Conversion, our second album, benefits from this as it lands with more confidence. We’re doing what we want to do, and we both feel grounded in that. Where it leads from here will be interesting and exciting to see.
Much of your music creates an inner landscape for the listener. If you imagine someone encountering Conversion on headphones for the first time, what kinds of images, moods, or spaces do you hope might open up before them?
Markus and I agreed early on that Conversion should be released in autumn because it feels deeply connected to this season. The album carries a certain weight and introspection, but also a sense of openness and a panoramic feeling, like a horizon stretching out in front of you. It has depth, even a kind of heaviness, yet it remains open and expansive. I imagine the album might spark a strong sense of spatial awareness in the listener and almost feel like entering an internal world and wandering through an imagined landscape. The music oscillates between contrasting sound worlds. At times, it’s grounded in rhythm, with elements like the bass drum giving structure. At other times, it moves freely without a defined pulse, allowing textures to unfold at their own pace.
Some pieces really take their time and let sonic spaces slowly build and evolve. There’s a deliberate tension throughout that flows between melodic waves and deeper, darker undercurrents. That contrast is essential to the album’s character. I think the experience of this album will be different for everyone, and it’s exciting to imagine what kinds of moods, images, and emotions might open up for people.
After more than two decades of shaping sound, what continues to drive your curiosity? Is it the pursuit of new textures and techniques, or do life experiences, books, or encounters outside of music play an equal role in inspiring you today?
When I’m actually making music, there is a certain sense of timelessness. Music is my way to express things that I often can’t put into words. Conveying mood is essential to me, so I feel dissatisfaction when I haven’t worked on music for a long time. I’ve noticed time and time again that office work and organisational tasks that always need doing can really drain me in the long run. After a while, I start to feel that something is missing. When I sit down to make music again and eventually reach that magical point in the process, I reconnect with what moves me. I honestly don’t even want to contemplate what my life would be like if I had never found that outlet. Music, for me, is essential to my well-being. It has a processing function and allows me to metabolise experiences.
When I’m making music, and I feel something, I want to express it clearly enough that it becomes comprehensible to someone else. The hope is that someone feels that same emotion when they hear it. I’ll never truly know if it triggers the same feeling in them that it did in me, but I do know that finished pieces are very personal. They’re like diary entries. Even years later, I can often remember exactly what was going on in my life when I made a particular track, and what was occupying my thoughts at the time. Some stories are my real experiences, while others are imagined. They’re made of memories, emotions, and imagined moments that come together to form a whole. Over time, you expand your ability to express yourself clearly by developing fluency in the tools and techniques of your craft. Life experiences and meaningful encounters are, for me, the true driving force. They are what create the need to express something in the first place.
Finally, for younger musicians trying to find their own voice in a world shaped by algorithms and fast-changing trends, what guidance would you offer about staying authentic and building something that lasts?
The first thing I’d ask is: what really motivates you to make music? Once you're clear about your intentions, it becomes easier to map out a path that feels true to you. You’re more likely to find your own voice when you listen to your inner self and discover what genuinely moves you. At that point, algorithms and short-term trends become less important. Another important aspect is learning not to compare yourself too much to others. There will always be projects or artists who seem more successful, but if you spend too much time wondering why, you risk focusing more on the outside world than your own development. Mindset plays a big role. It’s useful to observe what works for others, but don’t assume their approach will work for you in the same way. I think everyone has their own path to follow. The more grounded and aware you are of that, the better equipped you’ll be to deal with both success and failure without losing your sense of self.