I was born at 1:33 in the morning, in Tripoli, Libya, on February 7th,
1956. An Aquarius, with Scorpio rising and Sagittarius moon, I was the
second of three children delivered to Arthur and Tina Voudouris. My
father was a first generation born American, of Greek refugees from
Izmir, Turkey. My mother was born in Athens, Greece, to Greek parents.
As my father was an officer in the United Stated Air Force, we tended to
move around a lot. My first six years of life were spent shuttling
between Greece and the United States, where I attended Greek and
American schools. Second through sixth grade was spent at the United
States Air Force Academy (USAFA), near Colorado Springs, where my
father taught French. I have fond memories of this time. Laying out in
the center of the grass cluster, eating popcorn with friends while
stargazing...tree houses, hiking, yard work, sledding, learning to
ride a bicycle, chopping down our own Christmas trees. It was a time
of bounty, rich in experience.
Four years later, in 1966, we moved to Albuquerque, where my father began
studying for his Ph.D. That year at Sandia Air Force Base was mixed
with joy and sorrow. My mother, homesick for Greece, decided to return
to Athens, and took my sister and baby brother with her. I stayed with
my father. Attracted to sports, I was on a baseball team, a swimming
team, and a tennis team. After practice I’d find my dad over the
hibachi in the back yard with a couple of steaks on. But it was the
taste of souvlaki which would soon whet my palette.
Within the same year I returned to Greece to begin junior high-school. My
father remained to finish his degree and followed us immediately
thereafter. This would be the final move for my parents who had
decided Athens would be our permanent residence. I attended The
American Community Schools throughout junior high and high school. My
sister Anna and brother Nick attended the same school. When I wasn’t
studying, I spent my time playing ping pong, football, basketball,
baseball, badminton, and volleyball, and avidly attended Tang Soo Do
classes (I would receive my black belt at 17). Additionally, I was an
active member of the local theater guild and played piano and sang
with some of the G.I. bands. I already knew that the arts would be a
driving force in my life.
 (I can trace my love for music, and the business of music, back to second
grade. There was a popular song on the radio whose title, if I
remember correctly, was "Snoopy and The Red Baron". Friends and I got
together to learn and perform the song. I played piano and sang, one
friend played a bongo-like drum and sang, and the other friend sang
but played no instrument. Enterprising, at an early age, I suggested
we go to the houses of friends who owned pianos and charge 25 cents to
sing the song. The kindness of parents provided us with lots of
ice-cream money. I also remember some of my sister’s records around
the same time which included The Doors, The Monkeys, The Mamas and the
Papas, The Ventures, and The Beatles.)
One summer job, wherein I was the peon for a pharmaceutical firm, yielded
the funds to purchase my first tape recorder; one of those small
reel-to-reel units popular in the early 70’s. And though the
floodgates to music had yet to open, I was already wet and welcomed
the deluge. I was listening to "Abbey Road" a lot. But it was two
brothers (and their love of music) who would have the greatest
influence on me and my future as a musician.
These brothers were in the admissions office of the American Community
Schools at the same time as my mother was paying our tuition.
Characteristic of my personality, I made a joke, the brothers laughed,
and we introduced ourselves. Chris and John Spheeris and I had, in an
instant, sparked what would become a deep friendship. They brought
albums and 45’s from the United States which we would listen to daily.
I instantly fell in love with
Elton John
(the first album) and
Carole King's
"Tapestry". Then, with the purchase of my bigger and better
reel-to-reel recorder, the floodgates did open up and a wave of
beautiful music filled my life...
Seals & Crofts,
Cat Stevens,
Led Zeppelin,
Loggins & Messina,
Pink Floyd,
Stevie Wonder,
Genesis,
Queen,
and, it seems, just about anything I could lay my hands on. I
began singing and playing
Elton John
songs on the piano. This led to
the desire to write and express my own thoughts and emotions through
songs. A pubescent teen, some of my early songs had titles such as
"Hanging Meat". At one point, I was part of a band comprised of Rick
Miller (later to become CBS recording artist Parthenon Huxley) on
guitar and Jim Kress on drums. We had one public appearance. Taping
every album anyone would lend me, I remember this period as my most
open regarding musical styles. Having little knowledge of the craft of
music, everything felt and sounded new and fresh. I listened without
prejudice and was never to become a greater fan of music. And then I
crossed the line from being a fan to being the artist.
By the last two years of high school I was writing many of my own songs
with lyrics provided by friends and budding poets. The Spheeris family
had returned to the United States but John stayed in their apartment
alone (what a lucky guy!) to complete his senior year in Athens. He
and I were chess fanatics and would play for hours while listening to
music.
(Somewhere amidst all this I lost my virginity to my girlfriend, though
not she to me, and spent what free few minutes I had left to look for
a place to practice my new favorite sport.)
I was stood up at the Prom, the school President, a member of the
National Honor Society, and Varsity Basketball, as well as elected
"most talented". Yeah, I was the King of the World. But the exploits
and prestige of the high school experience drew to an end as
discipline and severity loomed around the corner.
 The Air Force Academy had provided vivid childhood memories for me. We’d
moved there when I was seven, from Greece. But returning as a teenager
to become part of a cadre of boys who would one day be transformed
into officers and gentlemen was quite another matter. Off came the
long hair and sideburns and in entered discipline, gravity, and other
associated military virtues. Harvard wouldn’t have me, nor would any
of the other prestigious schools to which I was sure I should have
gained entry. So destiny (assuming there is such a thing) played a
role assuring that I enter my father’s "business". I entered as a free
spirited teen with pervasive creative interests. The Air Force Academy
insisted I focus on the other hemisphere of my brain. It was not long
before I realized I was not destined to be an officer. Or, if I were
to become an officer, it was then that I realized I would be an
unhappy one. A life of creativity, in the arts, presented open
possibilities, a canvas seemingly void of traditional parameters. A
general in the Air Force, with a specific salary, was the most I saw
the military giving me. It would be two years before I left the Air
Force Academy. In the meantime, I served my time, was active in the
theater guild, had a band (the Doolie Brothers...Doolies being first
year cadets), and took up transcendental meditation. Having aced the
Spanish equivalency entrance exams, I was allowed some electives. I
replaced foreign language with Literature and Film; which were two
enormously gratifying and refreshing breaths of fresh air amidst the
stifling atmosphere of the Academy.
When they saw me during a Thanksgiving in which I didn’t return to
Greece, Chris and John were shocked to see the effects on the revamped
Paul who got up early Saturday mornings to shave himself and polish
his shoes. They lovingly suggested that the military and I weren’t
exactly a match made in heaven. During the first two years at USAFA,
Chris would send me lyrics via mail and I would write music to the
lyrics and perform and record the songs with the Doolie Brothers. It
was the beginning of the creative collaboration between us and a
glimpse of a life based on creativity as opposed to rigidity. Destiny
(!?) again played its hand and I was out before the beginning of my
third year and soon to be in yet another interesting environment.
The University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee, had accepted me as a senior after
two years of hard labor at the USAFA. Chris and I had decided to give
our talents as a duo a go and I dove into college with zeal. Once
loaded down with Science and Engineering, I now had a choice and I
chose five English courses each semester. In bliss, I consumed novels
the way I now consume DVD’s, and especially fell in love with
Shakespeare,
James Joyce,
and Julio Cortazar.
So much so, with
Cortazar
, that I named my publishing company (Hopscotch Fever Music) in honor
of his "Rayuela". It was a massive curriculum and I would
frequently be preparing for exams, as well as reading and writing, in
the booths of The Ground Round.
 The Ground Round was a chain restaurant. Chris and I, now titled Spheeris
& Voudouris, had landed a five nights a week gig at the haven for
hamburgers. Picture this: free popcorn, a juke box with a large
selection, a clown creating free balloon art, a television on at all
times, and the two of us, first singing songs by our favorite artists,
then injecting our originals amongst the rest. The pay was good for
guys attending college full-time. We learned the ropes of the business
as well as the art and craft of composing and playing live. Within a
very short time we were performing as much as we wanted. Having
developed followings, we played shows that consisted of solely
original compositions. We loved all sorts of music, from folk to
progressive rock, to jazz, to ambient (God bless
Eno!)
and our songs
were some strange, but original mélange of our influences. Two years
after our professional debut, we recorded our first album. It proved
to be a gargantuan task for virgins in the studio. (In the meantime
I’d graduated with a B.A. in Literature, was elected to the English
Honor Society, and entered the Masters Program at U.W.M. Milwaukee. As
Chris and I were touring extensively, after one graduate year, I could
no longer continue my studies.)
With loans from loving parents we
recorded "Spheeris
& Voudouris" (1978), the first of many collaborative recordings.
It took months, an exorcism of the studio, and lots of energy, but we
finally completed the album. Then we went back to a grueling schedule
of live shows. Within two years we were playing the college circuit
from the Midwest to the east coast. Though lucrative, we spent endless
hours driving, setting up and breaking down, and rehearsing. What a
time of multi-faceted experience and brotherhood it was!
Our next release was "Points of View"
(1980), recorded at a beautiful recording studio housed at the Playboy
resort at Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. This album contained more esoteric
compositions and displayed us in fine, progressive folk-rock form. We
played more and more gigs.
The Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra
accompanied us performing our compositions in the gorgeous Performing
Arts Center of Milwaukee. We explored different forms of composition,
listened to Tuxedo Moon, and
The Residents
and, of course, there were
The Sex Pistols
and
The Ramones
and it seemed music was being deconstructed again. In a bizarre move
(why can’t artists just do one thing over and over again?) we recorded
"Primal
Tech"(1982), our version of new wave, and played these songs
exclusively. That move cost us a good chunk of our following. But we
cared not. Then came "Passage" (1982), our
meditative, alpha state offering (and one of my favorite of our
works). But, suddenly, we deconstructed just as so much music had. I
moved back to Athens and Chris stayed on in Milwaukee.
I came home (to Athens) with lots of energy and focus and had very
soon made influential acquaintances which would prove important to my
future. I started teaching at my old high school. (My father was still
teaching there and Nick was a student.) I taught high school level
Literature (American and British) and Karate (for P.E.). At night I
was working in the best disco in Athens: "Autokinesis". The disc
jockey was Piero, an Italian living in Greece with an impeccable taste
and love for music. (He is still one of my closest friends.) My job
was to man the mixing console for the half hour that a rock group
would play. The group was signed to CBS Records and were called Big
Alice, a pun on the last name of the brains behind the operation. The
drummer was Dimitris Plessas, son of famous composer and performer
Mimi Plessas. When the elder Plessas caught wind that I was into
synthesizers (this was still a novel thing in those days) he asked me
if I would like to play in the televised concert he was hosting on the
island of Ithaca. Accepting, I wrote a composition which included tape
loops, and taping down drone notes on the synth, and performed it in
the concert without a hitch. Within two weeks I was approached at my
evening gig by the A & R guy for EMI Records Greece.
 Remarkable as it seems, I was in Greece less than a year before I was
offered a major label recording contract; the dream and goal of most
musicians. I was signed on the basis of my performance and a one-song
demo (recorded on my 4-track reel to reel) of a new-wavish song called
"Carpe Diem". (You can’t take
the teacher out of the musician.) Aside from the recording budget, I
was given a $1,500 advance (laughable by any standards, at almost any
time). The task of recording the album was monumental. With few
exceptions, I was playing all the parts on analog synthesizers, one
part at a time, one after the other. Booking time in one of the top
recording studios was difficult and I would often be given time slots
at 3:00 in the morning. "In The Movies"
(1984) was eventually completed and EMI England got interested. But
their philosophy was to go in and redo what was done in a different
way. (As Francis always says, "Things don’t get better or worse, they
just get different.") So the album was rerecorded adding the very
famous Greek rock band "Socrates". EMI UK dropped out at
 some
point, leaving me with a couple of singles and enormous conflicts with
my EMI Greece. The bonfire of my appearance on the Greek music scene
had been reduced to the flicker of a firefly. And I was back to doing
sound engineering in the evenings. But now I was doing sound for all
the major stars of Greece. I met interesting and creative people, went
to bed about 6:00 or 8:00 in the morning, after eating, drinking, and
smoking too much of one thing or another. (The nadir was falling
asleep under the sound console from having drunk a bottle of cough
syrup in order to extract its codeine.) From season to season, I saved
money, had raccoon eyes, and spent less and less time being creative
in my studio. How much longer would I continue this lifestyle? Was
destiny to play a role again?
The Neraida beach-side nightclub had a summer program to top others when
I was offered their sound engineering position. Marinella,
Xatzidimitriou, Paschalis, Parios, Nikolaou, among other singers, and
a dance troupe from Las Vegas performed at intervals throughout the
evening. I was attracted to one of the American dancers and,
obviously, she to me, because we were together from opening night till
the troupe left three months later. She suggested I come back to the
U.S. and live with her. Weary of the night life and the jaded
lifestyle I’d adopted, the offer was appealing. But I’d at least have
to wait some months as I’d committed to another sound engineering job
at a club in Thessaloniki. We shared the frequent phone calls that
love in bloom knows so well. And, before I new it, I had a suitcase of
clothes in one hand, my trusty and still relevant Prophet-5
synthesizer in another hand, and $1,500 (U.S.) in my back pocket. Las
Vegas Bound!
 Lights. Cameras. Action. Wake-up call. Athens to Las Vegas? Hell, Los
Angeles to Las Vegas is a contrast. Athens to Las Vegas is surreal. I
found out I was allergic to cats, tried to do something with my music,
worked in telemarketing (this marked a low below that of the cough
syrup incident), and floundered. S. worked at the Lido and then
retired. We decided to move west. Was Hollywood to be an improvement?
The sheer size of Los Angeles is daunting. Where does one choose to live
and for what reason? What will one do for income while pursuing one’s
dream? I worked in a gay restaurant as the token straight waiter. It
was a great restaurant and a good job. I also took the appropriate
exams with the Los Angeles Unified School District and received my
teaching credential. Having phased out being a waiter, I worked like
crazy for the school district. I had part-time teaching positions for
a while but was given a full-time contract within the first months.
The position was in a language lab in a school in central Los Angeles.
Hired to replace the director of an innovative E.S.L. program who had
been promoted, I stepped into an ideal position. I had my own language
lab equipped with the latest technology, two separate rooms, a
secretary, and a salary greater than I’d ever had before. But L.A. has
a way of separating one from one’s newfound wealth. S. and I split up.
She returned to Europe to dance and I went on with my existence. But I
had begun to reason that if my bank account were to have a zero
balance at the end of each month that I preferred to be broke in a
healthier environment. Chris and I had been in contact and worked on
each other’s stuff. (I went to Portland and participated in Chris’
"Pathways to Surrender"
and he played on a batch of songs later to be found on my "Contact Theater" recording.) Upon one of my visits to
Milwaukee to visit the Spheeris family, I was struck with the initial
inspiration for what would become my favorite and most unique work.
"Speak To Me" (1987) began by my recording every single telephone
call I made or received onto my pro-walkman. I’d set up a tap and
trained myself to turn on the recorder before picking up the receiver.
The results were listened to, dated, and labeled under groupings such
as "death", "love", "relationships", etc. Then, I manually taped (this
is pre-digital editors) selected passages to a 4-track cassette
machine. Adding voice after voice, I created aural collages where
people who didn’t know each other appeared to be conversing. Ambient
music behind the theater of voices completed the aural portraits.
Using a photograph of me, Chris created an
innovative cover and I
manufactured 1,000 cassettes. Played in its entirety, once, on KPFK, a
progressive L.A. radio station, the tape never made a profit but
remains dear to my heart. "Speak To Me" made me examine myself and
question the sanity of continuing to live in an environment such as
L.A.
 In our many hours of phone conversations Chris and I had discussed
finding a healthy place to live (he was planning on moving) and
visited northern California, Oregon, and Arizona to that purpose.
Aside from having attracted extraterrestrial walk-ins and other unique
and interesting characters (see "So Who, Finally, Is this Paul
Voudouris") Sedona, Arizona offered a magnificent visual landscape
and became our ultimate choice. Bidding the Los Angeles Unified School
District farewell, I moved to Sedona and shared a house with Chris. We
played music, wrote music for a musical, sunbathed around the pool,
and got really healthy. It was a period of rebirth, exploration, and
fraternity. I began writing an autobiographical account of all that I
was going through. "The Tip Of The Crystal," as I called my selected
writings, was a humorous account of many of the practices of the
new-age and its practitioners. But I was laughing at myself,
primarily, because I was the guinea pig willing to administer myself a
coffee enema or collect my morning urine for later consumption. I
wrote prolifically and performed two hours of new material every three
months. And then along came Music West Records.
 An independent record label located in San Rafael, California, Music West
Records was responsible for the birth of "Enchantment" (1992). We
worked on our midi parts with an acute attention to detail, synched it
up with an 8 track reel-to-reel recorder and added woodwinds, guitars,
and whatever else was required. "Pura Vida," one of the cuts on "Enchantment," was included on a benefit album titled
"Polar Shift".
This move unknowingly brought us lots of airplay and exposure. (Which
was good because Music West Records went bankrupt three months after
releasing the record.)
Through negotiations worthy of Greeks, we came to terms with the label,
were given the rights to our master, and bought our seized c.d.’s from
the bank for a fraction of the cost. We reopened the doors to our
label, Epiphany Records, and "Enchantment"
was once again within the grasp of the consumer. We did well, rapidly.
Very well. Chris dealt with new accounts and public relations and I
did the accounting. Meanwhile, we both worked on individual projects.
"It Takes Two"
(1993) was my new focus.
 While living in L.A. I used to buy my music equipment from a salesman who
was also an accomplished guitarist and a terrific person. Greg Westall,
still my very good friend, and co-producer of "It Takes Two", would
later move to work for Alesis. This was important because we were
recording the album on ADATs, the newest toys at the time. I
periodically went to L.A. and stayed with Greg and Julie and put in
endless hours of midi and recording work. Greg and Julie came out to
the ranch in Cornville (outside Sedona) where I lived and we continued
to work on the record. The two years we spent working on the album
honed and polished it into a finely produced pop product. I had five
singles on the record get substantial airplay with "It Takes Two To
Tango" finding its way to the top of some international charts. The
record was recorded (primarily in Sedona) by Steve Shepherd (a
creative engineer with a great voice and vocal ideas) and Greg, and
mixed in Los Angeles by Steve and the rest of us. Engineer Francis
Buckley, interested in the prototype Alesis remote control (BRC) we
were using, came in near the end of each day to add his personal
touch. Tim Gehrt an Alesis programmer and drummer programmed the drum
parts. Many lasting friendships were formed on that project and I
continue to work with Francis, Greg, and Tim. Chris and I, in keeping
with our history, were taking a breather from each other. Chris worked
on more solo projects and I began composing my next album "Nothing But
The Truth" (1994). In the meantime, "Enchantment" had turned into a
consistent seller. Epiphany Records was flourishing and Chris and I
bought Lexus automobiles, and homes, and improved our circumstances
measurably.
 The recording and mixing of "Nothing But The Truth" was all done in my
house in Sedona. Steve Shepherd came in to record and produce the
vocals. Francis came to mix. The ADAT technology made it possible for
musicians in L.A. to record their parts in their studios and mail me
the VHS tape. This was revolutionary and liberating. "Nothing But The
Truth" was a quieter, less pop album than "It Takes Two",
and sales were correspondingly less brisk. It was in the year after "Nothing But
The Truth" that Chris and I were again ready to go in and do
something together. That album would become "Europa" (1996).
"Europa" was recorded in my house and mixed in Chris’ house, two blocks
away. As always, Russell Bond did some incredible recording and Steve
Shepherd left his invisible, creative touches during the mixes. Chris
and I had many arguments concerning production touches. (Imagine
heated exchanges over the degree of reverb on a rim shot.)
Chris took the record to L.A. for mastering and I took myself to
Southeast Asia. While in Bali, through faxes,
 and
with the assistance of our favorite mediator, John Spheeris, we
dissolved our partnership (again).
I spent six months in Southeast Asia
relaxing, learning to scuba dive, receiving incredible massages, and
writing about it all. The writings
were called "The Adventures of King Prawn"
and were nothing more than the relating of my experiences. (There goes
Paul the guinea pig.) I celebrated my 40th birthday with John, in the
city appropriately titled Bangkok, and visited Laos and Vietnam, and
received more massages and tasted dog. Returning to Sedona, I decided
I no longer wanted to live in the United States. I was ready for
another cultural flavor. With packed bags, house rented, and the
studio in storage, I got on a flight toward Mexico. I was making
enough money from "Enchantment" and "Europa" that I could travel indefinitely throughout
the world while looking for a new place to move. I wouldn’t get past
Mexico.
 Renting a small house on a beach about 45 minutes north of Vallarta, I
spent time writing, walking, and remembering Spanish. Having bought a
car in Guadalajara, I drove through Mexico and finally stopped in
San
Miguel de Allende. A colonial town near the center of the country with
a diverse and talented selection of musicians, this seemed the best
place to pause and create some music. Within two days I’d rented a
house and a studio. I went out at night, heard bands, and started
working with my new friend and co-worker Mariano Pini, a unique,
colorful, and talented guitarist from Argentina. He was into Eno and
Reiki and perpetually in a state of creation, and we hit it off. He
brought along his previous bandmates Michel Lombard (drums) and Beto
Gonzales (bass) and we formed King Prawn. The band was a live,
performing band, and we had some great gigs. I have fond memories of
our stay in Durango. We made an album, "King Prawn"
(1997), though it took some time and some revisions, and again had the
brilliant production and engineering skills of Francis Buckley. The
final work was a combination of pop, rock, and jazz. I still love "Ticket To The
Moon" and "I’m A Dreamer". But the band’s life was short-lived. Each
returned to his own.
 I had a fallow creative period after that. I
couldn’t understand why. Until I found out I was going to be a father.
Building a house and recording studio in the country, I spent my time
with all that building a house and raising a baby entails. Emilia, my
greatest creation, was the inspiration for my most recent release, which
is "Emilia’s Notebook" (2002). From the moment I knew I would be
a father, I began to research the most efficient manner for the
instruction of the languages of her lineage. The result was the
alphabet, the days of the week, and the numbers, recited and sung, in
English, Spanish, French, and Greek.
I’m presently in the compositional phase of another album. Right now
it’s instrumental but, who knows where this one will take me?
|
