Indeed, the psalmist is so stuck on praising God that he urges whales and cattle to praise God. If we are to make any sense of it we have to begin with the matter of enjoyment or delight. Let's think for a minute about our attitude to anything we enjoy, anything at all. It's the profoundest novel I have ever read. He's a wizard with the puck within 30 feet of the net.
Enjoyment overflows spontaneously into praise.
Our delight in anyone or anything overflows naturally into praise. We are convinced that praise is a fitting response, an appropriate response, the only correct response. We praise what we admire, and our admiration isn't wasted, isn't evidence of tastelessness or insensitivity. They find so little enjoyment in life, so little that delights them, so little they admire that they can't praise, since praise is the natural spillover of enjoyment and delight and admiration. And so they grope and grumble, chronically sour and sarcastic.