by Jay Stiles
It was a piano player’s worst nightmare. But sometimes a nightmare just needs a shift of perspective to become a beautiful dream.
I was in my late 20s and starting to love playing again. I had taken eight years of lessons in my youth but didn’t like the rigid classical approach. Finally, I had come back to the instrument on my own and was falling in love with it. Then I had an accident.
The leg of the trailer I was moving was not secured, and it folded into the shaft, taking off the index finger on my right hand. My girlfriend retrieved the severed finger and rushed me to the hospital. I was in shock but remained conscious. The doctors presented me with two choices: attempt to reattach the finger, with a tiny chance it would heal properly and a significant chance it would eventually need to be amputated, or sew it up.
My parents were on the phone. They were excited about my renewed passion for the piano and encouraged me to reattach the finger. But I thought about what it might cost me to struggle with a lifeless digit. I thought about one of my musical heroes, Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia, who was missing the middle finger on his right hand. Jerry’s playing resonated with me, and his technique was truly original because of his missing finger. I thought about the great gypsy jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt, who, after having two fingers fused together, became the greatest guitarist of his generation. The New Orleans piano legend Dr. John had a bullet graze a finger, which left it permanently mangled. That incident forced him to switch from guitar to piano, and the rest is history.
A calmness came over me in that moment. I decided it was my fate (or fortune) to join the club with some of my heroes and define my own unique sound. I’ve never looked back. I spent a month with my right hand in a sling above my heart. I focused on my left hand and concentrated on playing bass keyboard, like Ray Manzarek of The Doors.
The first winter was challenging. I was teaching downhill skiing, and the nub was always cold (and remained so for years). A few years later, I started teaching in a First Nations community in a remote part of Quebec. I had little knitted beanies made to keep my nub warm in -40 temperatures. One of my best classroom management strategies was to reveal my missing finger to a rowdy class. I captured their attention with wild stories about how I lost my finger. Then I would task them with writing their own stories about it. Instantly, the students were calm and creative, writing and then sharing their narratives.
At that time, I was playing in some bands and feeling the pull to become a full-time musician. But did I have what it takes to perform with professional players? I wasn’t sure, but I believed my uniqueness was more of an asset and a gift than an obstacle. Knowing I would never be able to rip solos with my right hand like someone with five fingers, I built a distinctive left-hand technique where I could play leads and bass lines. Many keyboardists feel more natural comping chords with their left hand, whereas I feel more natural actually holding down the low end. My right-hand solos tend to be more rhythmic and spacious because my nub rarely touches the keys. But I doubt my ability on the bass keys would have become as strong if not for the accident.
And I might not have enjoyed the opportunities I’ve had since moving to Austin, Texas. In the last nine years, I’ve entered a network of incredible musicians. I’ve met and performed with many of my heroes, making great connections and hearing some amazing stories. Jazz composer John Medeski told me about the pianist Horace Parlan: Polio crippled his right hand as a baby and forced him to develop an exceptional left hand. Brad Houser, longtime member of Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians, was another friend with half a finger who became one of the best bass players in the country. I got to see Dr. John a few times, and it was my honor to play his Hammond organ at the Telluride Blues Festival.
After I fashioned my own prosthetic crystal fingers, a friend named me Crystal Finger, and that became my stage name. I am truly thankful for my uniqueness and am grateful for the gift and the stories it has given me. I have toured all over Canada and the United States, doing what I love and doing it my own way. The fashion designer Coco Chanel said it best: “In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.”
Jay Stiles is a full-time musician living in Austin, Texas. Find him on Instagram at @crystalfinger1.
