It was late 1991, and I was deep in the thick of it—writing original music for my progressive-rock orchestral band, Fable. The year prior, someone had introduced me to the world of prog-rock, and I had fallen headfirst down the rabbit hole. The album that lit the fuse? Misplaced Childhood by Marillion—a sweeping, emotional masterpiece that opened my ears to a whole new kind of storytelling through sound.

But the real spark came a few months later. On March 2, 1990, I saw Marillion live at The Palace in Los Angeles. They had a new album, Seasons End, and a new frontman, Steve Hogarth. That night wasn’t just a concert—it was a turning point. I walked out of that venue knowing I needed to create something big, something bold. Something that felt like that.

So I got to work.

One of the first ideas I chased down was a quirky little melody that came out in 7/8 time. Now, I had no formal training—hadn’t studied time signatures or music theory. But I knew what sounded right. And this sounded right. I fired up my then-state-of-the-art Roland D-20 workstation and started building it out. At first, nothing lined up. The sequence was off, clunky, awkward. It took me hours to realize I was forcing a 4/4 grid onto a song that just wasn’t having it. The moment I flipped the meter to 7/8, everything clicked into place.

Once the pieces started falling in, I layered on some hilariously bad drum programming, awkward guitar samples, and a scratchy vocal line. It was messy—but it had a spark. I even wrote the melody in a way I imagined Fish, Marillion’s former frontman, might sing it—complete with a faux British accent.

I played the demo for our guitarist, Dave Perrigan, who had co-written all of Fable’s material with me up to that point. This was my first solo attempt. His verdict? “Too keyboard-y.” It wasn’t exactly a standing ovation. Drummer Dave Scherer liked it a bit more, but in the end, the track got shelved.

Fast forward a year. Fable had called it quits, and Dave and I had started a new Christian band. That’s when we met bassist Marc Miller and drummer Gary Zdenek—and Fair Exchange was born. One day, I dusted off that old 7/8 idea. During rehearsal, I started ad-libbing lyrics. “After the Rain” came out almost instinctively. The message felt clear. The vibe was fresh. Marc and Gary brought a progressive pop edge that gave the song a new life. Suddenly, even Dave—Mr. “Too Keyboard-y”—was on board.

Some of the original lyrics stuck, like the line:
“You’ve got a one-way ticket to paradise, but you can never find the time. You’d better take the time to listen before you lose your mind.”
But most of it got rewritten. I came up with a new melody, polished the chorus, and gave it the emotional punch it needed.

Once we had a proper version down, we recorded a solid demo at our home studio. Our good friend Shawn Van Eeckhoutte, a gifted videographer, helped us bring it to life with a music video. Gary laid out the storyboard, and just like that, the song that had once been sidelined had found its moment.

“After the Rain” became a staple in our setlist—something that really set us apart. Its off-kilter rhythm and soaring melody turned heads. But more than that, it reminded me of something I needed to learn as a musician: to trust my gut. To follow inspiration even when it doesn’t come with credentials. That Marillion concert didn’t just give me a goal—it gave me permission to dream bigger than I thought I could.

Looking back now, that strange little song in 7/8 taught me a lot about resilience, reinvention, and the long game of creativity. Sometimes the best ideas don’t land right away. But given the right time, the right people, and a little faith, they can become something unforgettable.

  1. After The Rain (Original Concept, The 7/8 Song) Ed Melendez 3:37

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