It’s 11am in a slightly dilapidated rehearsal room on a King’s Cross side street, and I can just about overhear a discussion in which Dominic Boyce, the affable drummer of psychedelic indie-pop troupe Peace, is considering returning a recently purchased pair of vegan sandals. “In hindsight, maybe I should keep them and commit to it,” he says at one point. “Maybe they’d be good for Glastonbury. Give the people what they want.”

Today, Boyce is joined by a speedily assembled who’s who – quite literally in some cases – of indie, rehearsing for Wednesday night’s NME awards, where they will perform the Rolling Stones’ Gimme Shelter, and Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth. Rallied by the NME, the group will be joined on the night by Charli XCX, who right now is somewhere over the Atlantic, but today consists of Boyce and Sam and Harry Koisser from Peace, Olly Alexander from Years & Years, Pixie Geldof, Isaac Holman from Slaves, Izzy Baxter from Black Honey, Austin Williams and Cavan McCarthy from Swim Deep, and Joe Falconer from Circa Waves.

While you may not be overly familiar with each act’s entire back catalogue, everyone in the room today is very committed to raising money for refugees, and that’s a positive and wonderful thing. The plan is that anyone watching the performance online – or reading an article about its rehearsal – can text REFU to 70700 to donate £5 to the British charity Help Refugees. It’s the sort of thing that routinely prompts a kneejerk sneer, but it’s a simple and effective move and knees can’t sneer anyway because of biology. The morning moves slowly with dramatic highlights including a broken keyboard stand, a leaking battery, Harry Koisser being unable to see the colour red, and an absence of maracas. At one point, Baxter is handed a red, gold and green guitar strap. “I’m too white to wear that,” she observes, although it’s fair to say this is one room in London where it’s impossible to be too white for anything.

After a run-through of the songs and lunch in the pizza place across the road, we’re joined by the NME editor, Mike Williams, who has turned up to check on progress. I ask him whether this whole supergroup business might be better with a few more famous people.

“That’s a bit of a mean question,” he says. “We haven’t even approached the Dave Grohls and Lady Gagas of this world – we wanted it to be in the spirit of what Bands 4 Refugees were already doing. It wouldn’t have been right for NME to storm in and swap them out for big American artists.”

Asked to clarify the message that he’s hoping to send out by drawing awareness to the refugee crisis during the NME awards, Williams adds: “Politicians and people with influential voices are being irresponsible with their words and changing the views of otherwise decent people. There’s a negative and demonised view of vulnerable people not that different from us who have been badly affected by wars and terror attacks. We want to show a bit of the reality.”

It’s cheering – but also a bit of a rum old do – that in the current climate, the first major creative statement from the global music community has come in the form of the new Katy Perry single, Chained to the Rhythm, a song about echo chambers and numbness that she has described as “purposeful pop”. But isn’t it also frustrating that the best song choices for Wednesday night’s show are both more than 50 years old?

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“A song like Gimme Shelter is incredibly powerful and the message will resonate with everyone in the room on the night and watching on Facebook Live,” Williams says. “That said, bands have told me in the past they don’t want to speak out because the internet is so unforgiving, but it feels like people have got to get over that now.”

Alexander chooses his words either far more carefully or far less carefully, depending on how you look at it. “The message I’d give Theresa May is that she should resign and take her entire cabinet with her,” he says. “Someone else should have a chance now. There’s lots of talk of Clive Lewis of late, isn’t there? Is he good? I don’t know. Maybe he’s just young and a bit hot.”

Alexander initially felt wary about becoming involved in Bands 4 Refugees. “A little bit of me always worries about the perceived vanity of ‘I’m supporting a cause’, but worrying what people think actually is a vanity problem,” he says. Currently midway through writing Years & Years’ second album, he acknowledges the pressure to write about world events. “It feels like that choice is more important now than it was a couple of years ago,” he says. “You could write a song about love, and people would go: ‘We’re living in a dumpster fire apocalypse and this is what you’ve chosen to write about?’”

A recent writing session helped put things in perspective. “I felt like I didn’t want to write about politics simply because I felt like I should, but then last week I wrote a song with the Pet Shop Boys. It’s inspired by a fairground in Margate called Dreamland, but while I was writing it, Neil Tennant said to me: ‘This makes sense right now with Trump closing the borders,’ and the song became something that touched on what’s going on in the world. I’d write lyrics and he’d say: ‘No, it needs to be more direct.’ He’d take a simple line and interject a subversive political statement. That’s the challenge as a pop writer, to do both at once.”

Baxter is more plain: “It’s important not to be like fucking Bono going: ‘You should do this.’ As an artist, you don’t have to answer all the questions, but you can still pose them.”

Most of today’s lineup has been assembled by Koisser, and while he’s keen not to take credit for dragging the other artists here (“All I’ll say is that I’ve probably been the most annoying person”), he hopes he can help start a bigger conversation among artists. “I’d like someone who’s a lot more important than us to see it and be inspired to do something gigantic on a level we can’t,” he says. Of course, if – meanness alert! – today’s supergroup did indeed want some more famous people, it might have made sense to ask for guidance from someone with experience in that field. Someone with a penchant for calling up superstars and getting them in a room in order to knock out a charity banger.

I mean, I wonder out loud, does anyone here today have any such contacts? It’s hard to know where to start, really. Isn’t it, Pixie Geldof?

“One or two names come to mind,” she smiles, a little wearily. “Yes, something like that may have happened before. And, yes, I see where you’re going with that. I don’t know what his plans are, but, yeah, I mean ... Band Aid is a Christmas song. Although I do like listening to the Tammy Wynette Christmas album throughout the year.” She’s clearly warming to the idea. “OK!” she eventually says. “I’ll have a word. Maybe. Oh, I don’t know.”

Back in the rehearsal room, Holman is handing out lollipops and, with each new vocalist added to the song, Gimme Shelter is sounding more and more unstable, like a pop Buckaroo. But by 5pm, it’s sounding pretty good. At one point, the band stops to debate whether the audience will clap along during the breakdown in For What It’s Worth. “Ignore the tables,” is one suggestion. “They’ll be too busy with their free dinners.” Someone else offers: “It all depends on how drunk they are.”

The group are limited to performing a faithful rendition of at least one of their chosen songs, a decision explained when I put it to Koisser that a tropical house version of Gimme Shelter might have made more impact in 2017. He says they needed the Rolling Stones’ approval to perform the song, “and there’s a thing that says you’re not allowed to change the genre or style. It has to be the same arrangement, structure, genre – and you can’t change the lyrics. Even if we wanted to do a tropical house version – and trust me, that went through my mind – we wouldn’t be able to.”

In the past, Mick Jagger has described Gimme Shelter as “a kind of end-of-the-world song, really. It’s apocalypse.” I pull Boyce to one side and ask: is the world about to end? He thinks for a while.

“I hope not,” he says eventually. “But it feels like the start of the end of something.”

The end of what?

“Humanity?”

He’s starting to look a bit troubled. “I mean I’m hoping it’s not,” he clarifies. “But something’s about to snap. It would be good to give it all another go, wouldn’t it? Start afresh.”

He’s sounding quite chipper about the prospect of life as we know it coming to an end. In fairness, the prospect of global apocalypse isn’t exactly unappealing these days. It would be great if that could wait until after the NME awards, though.