Well there you go. "Smooth jazz" doesn't have to be synoymous with barf, but it's become that in the wake of G's mega-success. He's become the de facto "industry standard" of the genre. But Grover would always give you good slink if he didn't give you anything else, and good slink is the link between this stuff and "regular" jazz, the swing/groove factor kept alive in a format that "everyday people" of the post-JB era can groove on. To use but one example, Ralph MacDonald produced the hell outta Winelight and gave it layers of rhythmic and textural seductions that made it slinky like a mofo. It ain't "meaty", but it's alive, and elegantly so. There's some shit happening there.
G don't give you slink, he gives you stink. Not stank, which would be cool, but just plain Caucasoidial stink, the odious odor of nothing exerting itself past its point of effectiveness in an attempt to assert its supremacy by celebrating its lifelessness as a triumphant alternative to somethingness. There's some shit happening there, some very real evacuation of that which is already dead.
It shouldn't be so.