There's a kind of melancholy that feels good: not an acute sadness at anything particular, but a stance of doubt, or weariness, or indifference, from which it can be comfortable and even illuminating to regard the world. That is the feeling of San Francisco's Papercuts. On their new album, Life Among the Savages, Jason Quever and Co. channel wintry pianos and weeping strings into songs that are sadly, entrancingly gorgeous before all else. You may pick out the words uttered in Quever's sighing, breathy vocals, or you may not, but titles like "Easter Morning," "Family Portrait," and "Staring at the Bright Lights" should give you the idea: Papercuts finds the poetry of everyday malaise, the deep beauty of a regular bummer. There's a lot of pleasure in that.