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Melkor was right. The music was too perfect and entirely too sterile. It was doomed to failure from the start.
Everyday is filled with an unending sameness. Except the concept of days does not exist for without Melkor there is no night, instead the world is bathed in light forever. The two lamps illuminate all of Arda unopposed.
Light is eternal.
There are no seasons to bring variation to the lives of the living beings of the world the powers have sung into being. No chill of winter to prepare for, nor bright spring awakening to celebrate. No dog days of summer or dying days of autumn. Ever it is mild and bright.
The songs are always the same and the unrest is growing.
Unrest without an avenue for it to be released, only grows until what could have once been easily resolved becomes entirely irredeemable.
Trees need wind to strengthen them or they simply just grow to a certain size and fall over. They need the wind to grow deep enough roots to hold their weight.
If this museum-like terrarium of a world chafes at the sensibilities of the First born then the coming of the Second born is the greatest crisis to ever hit it. Humans refuse to be contained the way the Ainur sang. They were made to change,
That's what Melkor was in the intention of the first song, when he wandered playing notes of discord. Or at least what he had been intended to be, before his thoughts and actions had twisted into hatred. Melkor was chaos and change and everything the world had needed but even he had doubted his place and purpose and that had led him steadily on a path that only descended into the utter emptiness of the void.
Without him there was order, consistency and planned uniformity.
But without him there was no balance, evolution or lucky chances.