Album Review: Ambon March Tahiti March by The Mena Moeria Minstrels
Alright, let’s talk about Ambon March Tahiti March by The Mena Moeria Minstrels. This little gem came out way back in 1963 under the Omega label, and honestly? It’s like stepping into a time machine to an era when folk music was all about storytelling and raw vibes. The album falls under the Folk, World, & Country genre but leans hard into that stripped-down folk style. And yeah, it’s from the Netherlands, which might sound random until you hear how effortlessly they pull off these island-inspired marches.
The two tracks on this record—“Ambon March” and “Tahiti March”—are short, sweet, and totally unforgettable. Let me break ‘em down for ya.
First up is “Ambon March.” Man, this one sticks with you. Written by H. Luhulima (who I’m guessing had some personal connection to Ambon), it feels like a warm hug from someone who knows their roots deep down. The guitar work by Coy Pereira is simple yet so effective—it doesn’t try too hard, just lays down a rhythm that makes your feet tap without even thinking about it. What gets me is how joyful it sounds. Like, you can almost picture people marching together, celebrating something bigger than themselves. It’s not perfect, though, and that’s what makes it real. There’s a slight wobble here and there, but hey, perfection is boring anyway.
Then there’s “Tahiti March,” and wow, does this track take you somewhere else entirely. If “Ambon March” feels like homecoming, this one feels like setting sail toward adventure. Again, the guitar shines, keeping things steady while letting the melody breathe. Ming Luhulima as the leader of the group really brings cohesion to the whole thing—you can tell everyone involved respects the tunes they’re playing. You don’t need flashy solos or over-the-top production to make music feel alive, and this proves it.
What I love most about both tracks is how unpretentious they are. They’re not trying to reinvent the wheel—they’re just sharing a slice of culture, maybe hoping listeners will feel connected to places they’ve never been. That’s rare nowadays, isn’t it? Most stuff feels engineered for playlists or algorithms, but this? This is pure heart.
Oh, and here’s the kicker—I listened to this album while cooking dinner last night, and suddenly my tiny kitchen felt like a tropical hideaway. Weird, right? But also kinda magical. Give Ambon March Tahiti March a spin if you want music that’s humble, heartfelt, and still somehow manages to transport you across oceans.
