Admit it — you thought John Oates (Page 34) still had a mustache, didn't you? You probably had no idea he shaved it off in 1989 in an attempt to put his Hall and Oates image behind him, and has grown it back only sporadically since. "I realized that if I was going to go on with my life and evolve in some way as a person, I just had to leave that guy behind," Oates told Billboard in 2009. "And so the shedding of the mustache is symbolic in a way and very important, too." So iconic was Oates' bushy soup strainer that last summer, Funny or Die debuted an animated Web series titled J-Stache, portraying Oates as a family man and his mustache as a hard-talking, hard-living crimesolver. With Oates' mustache long gone (but not forgotten), where can we turn for inspiring facial hair? Here are our picks for the 10 best mustaches in rock 'n' roll. — Jay Cridlin firstname.lastname@example.org
Croce died at age 30 in 1973, but his mighty mustache — a true forebear of Oates' burly bristles — lives eternal.
It's dancing on the ceiling … of his lips.
Can you picture the avant-garde jazz-rock fusionist without his imposing 'stache and before-its-time soul patch? We can't.
Props to Motorhead's singer-bassist for pulling off the vaunted mustache-mutton chop combo.
Just look at the cover for Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, would you? If we had to pick a favorite, we'd go with George's.
The granddaddy of all rock 'n' roll mustaches. Wispy but wise, graying but glorious, it's about as free-flowingly flower child as it gets. (See also: Wilford Brimley and Sam Elliott.)
Every gay man with a mustache owes the Village People's hirsute biker a debt of gratitude for creating an iconic look. Ironically, Hughes himself, who died in 2001, was straight.
Harry Shearer wore his fu manchu loud and proud for his gig as Spinal Tap's bassist. In an ironic twist, Shearer went all-beard, no-mustache for his role as the Folksmen's bassist in 2003's A Mighty Wind.
The late Queen frontman once won a poll asking Britons to name the U.K.'s most famous mustache. In a country that produced Charlie Chaplin and John Cleese, that's an impressive feat.
The singer-keyboardist for feminist dance-punks Le Tigre started growing facial hair at an early age, and decided to embrace it. "It's a measure of masculinity that I was so lucky to be born with," she told the New York Times in 2005. "It was like a light bulb went off in my head. 'Reclaim it, JD, love it!" You go, girl!