There was a heartbeat running through The Cutting Room last Friday night—not just the pulse of drums or the reverberating thump of bass, but something deeper, older, and entirely human. That pulse was healing.

The Raven Drum Foundation’s second annual benefit for first responders and veterans wasn’t your typical New York charity night. It was a communion. It was ceremony. And it was loud—in the best way possible. Founded by Def Leppard drummer Rick Allen and healing artist Lauren Monroe, the foundation channels the ancient and universal rhythm of drumming to reach what trauma often tries to silence: the soul.

With a lineup that felt part Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, part cosmic jam session, the night drew musicians, firefighters, veterans, and civilians under one roof—not to mourn, but to witness the power of resilience in motion. Performers flowed on and off stage like waves: Christina Ohlman of “Saturday Night Live” crackled with fire; Bernard Purdie, the “world’s most recorded drummer,” grooved with such ease it felt like time slowed down. And when Rick Allen stepped behind the kit, the room leaned in—not just out of reverence for his story, but because he plays like he’s holding something sacred in his hands.

Peter Criss, the original Catman and co-founder of KISS, received the Legacy Award to a standing ovation that felt less like an applause and more like thunder. When Criss spoke about vulnerability and service, the room quieted in a way that doesn’t happen often in clubs with $15 cocktails.

And then there were the jams. The Bouchard brothers (formerly of Blue Öyster Cult) brought their gritty mysticism, while surprise appearances reminded the crowd that rock isn’t just alive—it’s a living, breathing act of connection.

But this night wasn’t about nostalgia. It was about future-building. It was about breath-work and neurobiology. About integrating trauma through rhythm. About offering our first responders—those who run into burning buildings and mass disasters—a place to lat down their burdens, even if just for a night.

Raven Drum doesn’t just raise funds—it raises frequency. With partnerships like Friends of Firefighters and First Responder Resiliency, Inc., it’s offering a different kind of recovery model” one that includes breath, sweat, sound, and stillness. This is therapy with calluses. Healing with distortion pedals.

As Monroe herself said onstage, “Music is medicine.” Last Friday night in Midtown, it was also a lifeline—and it rang out through cymbals, power chords, and collective breath.