Williams Shares His Musical Gifts : Music: The guitarist, known for his technical prowess and myriad of influences, will perform at Ambassador Auditorium this weekend.

Even if classical guitarist John Williams wasn’t blessed with immaculate technique and total assurance within the classical European repertoire he would have given his and subsequent generations a liberating gift: By opening up the guitar to influences other than the European canon, he has brought the literature out from under the long Hitchcockian shadow of Andres Segovia.

“Because of all the influences that are expressed in music now, more are expressed in the guitar than in any other instrument,” said Williams, who appears at Ambassador Auditorium tonight and Sunday.

“It has its foot in many things, not just the European/Spanish style, but in blues, South American music, African, Indian and Chinese music. The plucked string and dying note is a magical experience the world over.

Williams describes himself as being “more Australian than English, but more London than either.” Born in Melbourne in 1941, he was first tutored in the guitar at age four by his father, Len Williams, a successful dance-band guitarist who later formed a guitar society in London that quickly grew to prominence. It was there, in 1953, that John Williams came under the tutorial eye of Segovia, who coached him both in London and at the Accademia Musicale Chigiana Summer Institute in Siena, Italy.

Williams was also studying at the Royal College of Music in London when he made his professional debut in 1958. By then, he had already found his style, later described by Allan Kozinn (co-author of “The Guitar: The History, The Players, The Music”): “Set against the prevailing Romantic standard of guitar playing, Mr. Williams’ style was brisk, clean, carefully balanced and rhythmically straightforward.” And, to many ears, cold.

The charge has followed him throughout his career.

“Julian Bream has always been the poet of the guitar, and John Williams the technocrat,” says John Schneider, composer, guitarist and host of KPFK’s “Soundboard.”

Jim Smith, classical guitarist and music professor at USC, takes a different view: “Williams is a consummate player, one of the finest in the world. His playing is so clean, so elegant, that I can see how the question comes up about depth. I think he is a deep player, but it’s not an unbridled, impetuous expression. I think he exemplifies Segovia’s line, ‘Beautiful tone is a product of the sensibility of your mind.’ ”

Williams’ playing style represents a somewhat formal gloss on what seems a highly informal, amiable personality. He’s a smallish, direct, fine-boned figure--to shake hands with him feels like holding a small bird. He may just as well be describing himself when he speaks of his fellow Australians: “I like their openness, their down-to-earth quality. They’re blunt and very friendly. They don’t like hypocrisy. They’re not into power.”

But London and its musical swim remain home. “London is the greatest musical capital in the world by a long way,” he said in a recent telephone conversation. “There’s a great foundation of film music here, going back to the days of the Ealing Studios. There’s rock and pop, the BBC, straight classical music, avant-garde groups, the Royal Symphony, the Barbizon, enormous amounts of live music everywhere and Ronnie Scott’s jazz club, where I began playing in the ‘60s.

Williams has mixed feelings about his tutelage under Segovia.

“Segovia was unique in what he created, and he was a great inspiration to me. But I don’t think he was a good teacher. He was autocratic. He wanted his students to see him as a model. If you did what he wanted he could be very charming and make you feel good. But music is more than just the correct fingering of pretty sounds. Real music happens on another level that involves expressiveness, a dynamic.”

At 50, Williams looks to his late father for giving him direction. “In those first years, it was my father who taught me technique, tone, approach. He was quite careful about my early schooling. Sometimes I wonder if he put me on it too soon, but then, if I hadn’t been so lucky to have him, I might’ve chosen the wrong thing.

“Every now and then I’ll be playing with my half-brother; we’ll be thinking about what a lovely sound the guitar makes. Then we’ll say, ‘Let’s play a few notes for the old man.’ ”