We were about 5 minutes into last night's Top 12 episode of American Idol before I realized that there would be no mentoring of the Dozen Who Have Somehow Made It This Far. No Mick, showing Big Mike how to strut his stuff. No Keith asking all the kids what kinds of prescriptions they have. No Ronnie Wood explaining to Aaron that he is not Keith Richards. Not even Charlie Watts.

Man. What's the point of using the Rolling Stones song book if you aren't going to have the Rolling Stones teaching these young whippersnappers a thing or two?

Once I was over this disappointment, I was able to focus on the two-hour extravaganza of rock and roll that was about to unfold before us. The judges had tottered out and across the stage, Ryan had tap danced down the stairs, we had gone through the History Lesson That Is The Stones, using every adjective Ryan knows, and then ... Big

Mike Lynche? Really? In the deadly opening spot?

In his pre-taped number, we learn that in addition to having a newborn, his mom died when he was a teen, which I guess makes Mike the Gokey-Squared. Oddly, he and his cute wife are wearing the same scarf. What is with this family and the scarf? Mike will sing Miss You. He is not wearing a suit and boat shoes, which should've been my first clue. He hits the falsetto well in the oo-ooos part of the song, but after that it becomes clear that this arrangement is a mess, and his "choreography" makes it look like he is the instructor in some aerobics class for sumo wrestlers. It is not good, although only Simon acknowledges that.

Up next is

Didi Benami, who saved herself last week with Fleetwood Mac, and who tells us she is the middle child. Ahhh. So am I. I totally get her. She is doing Playing with Fire, and she looks fierce, and acts fierce and sings fierce and I love it although the judges act weird. Whatever. She rocked it.

Casey James is from Cool, Texas, and I love his trucker mom with her Bonnie Raitt hair. He goes electric (which the judges hated when he did it before) on It's All Over Now, and he has this Skynyrd/Kid Rock vibe going on and for the first time since the Top 24, I like him again. The judges are nitpicky.

Oh

Lacey Brown. Your pastor daddy makes me smile, but your decision to sing Ruby Tuesday turns my smile upside down, and when I see the Idol String Section on the stage I know I am in trouble. Or you are. And since nobody is going to vote me out, I'm pretty sure it's you. I cannot make heads or tails out of her outfit, it is ridiculously distracting and I wonder what Father Father thinks of it, with the thigh-high stockings and the flesh-colored bustier. Not to mention, of course, the clown makeup. Halfway through this grating performance she sits down on the edge of the stage, apparently exhausted from carrying the weight of those earrings. I hate this, but then again I knew I would.

Andrew Garcia, with his weepy dad and his still-as-stone mom, was faced with the fact that he was going to have to sing a song by a bunch of men, and lucky for us, he manned up. He chose Gimme Shelter, a great song, and he looks great, and he really sang his brains out, and I love it. The judges are idiots, of course, with the bizarre exception of Ellen.

Little

Katie Stevens from Connecticut (in her interview, she says she hopes to "put Connecticut on the map." I think someone named Michael Bolton might think he's beaten you to that, Missy.) She has so smartly chosen Wild Horses, which perfectly suits the deepness of her voice. She looks lovely, she's cute and articulate with Ryan in the Coke Bubbles interview, and while the arrangement is very Lite-FM, they have given her the Adam Lambert Memorial Lighting, and I believe she is safe.

Oh

Tim Urban. That skin. Those eyes. That chin. Those lashes. You are one of 10 kids. You are veeeerrrryyyy carefully singing Under My Thumb, playing your guitar, and ... wait. Is it reggae? It is. No, wait. It's that music they play when the merry-go-round goes round. Nope, the judges say it's reggae. I cannot believe the heights of horrible you have reached with this. But good gravy you are cute.

Siobhan is from Cape Cod! How could I not have known this before? She is from Barnstable, but as anyone who frequents the Cape knows, she isn't really. No one who lives on the Cape says they live in Barnstable. I wonder if she has served me ice cream anywhere. Anyway, she is going for Paint It Black, and she is on the Adam Lambert Memorial Hell Stairs, wearing a prom dress and combat boots (FABULOUS) and she eats this song alive, and while that dramatic note near the end moved slightly into Silence of the Lambs territory, she saves it. The judges are salivating. She is spectacular and gorgeous.

Lee Dewyze. You are my favorite. You are the boy that I would sneak out of the house for when I was a teenager. Ryan mortifies him with a paint quiz, and then we discover that his parents are Bonnie Hunt! My goodness. He takes Beast of Burden and Lee-icizes it, and I love, love, love it, but then again, I knew I would.

Paige Miles looks exactly like her mom. She's going to sing Honky Tonk Woman. She is dressed in a park ranger's romper with black tights and knee-high boots and this outfit might need to share a cubicle with Lacey's in the Idol Fashion Hall of Shame. Yeesh. She starts out shaky and whenever she goes low or quiet it's not good, but when she belts it she sounds fine. I am not a fan.

Little

Aaron Kelly the Leprechaun gets the penultimate pimp spot, and he puts Angie through the Rascal Flatts machine. He is sitting on the Adam Lambert Memorial Heaven Stairs. The judges praise his song choice and his performance but here's the thing: When Mick Jagger sings Angie, you can literally hear his guts pouring out onto the floor. Aaron has no guts. I give it a meh, but then again, I knew I would.

In the big shocker of the night,

Crystal Bowersox gets the pimp spot, closing the show with You Can't Always Get What You Want, her and her guitar and her peacock feather in her dread in memoriam for Lilly. I love her hippie, weepy dad. As a mother, I find her photo metamorphosis from tow-headed, velvet-dressed moppet to dreadlocked scowler upsetting, but that's just me.

Her performance is, of course, great. My husband, who happens to wander through the room at this moment, stops and says, "holy cow, who's that?" The judges warn her that Siobhan is nipping at her heels, and she better put some Crystal into her performances, and she reacts with the perfect combination of humble and confident.

I do agree, though, that Crystal may end up the Melinda Doolittle of the season, if she isn't careful about the scowling attitude. Siobhan can sing, and she has looks and an appealing quirky attitude. Didi can bring it. Lee has my heart. Mike Lynche has a dead mom and a newborn. Now that we are in the Top 12, I think we may have a season on our hands. How about you?