By her own admission, í“lí¶f Arnalds is a bit of an oddball in her native Iceland, no mean feat considering we’re talking about a country whose most famous export is Bjí¶rk. Reached in New York City, where she’s launching a North American tour, she has no problem articulating why. And, no, it has nothing to do with affection for swan dresses or love-it-or-hate-it vocal tics.

“It’s strong in the Icelandic culture to be a jack-of-all-trades,” Arnalds says in charmingly accented English. “People do many different things. I think that comes from the size of the population, especially if you live in one of the towns in the countryside. Maybe you work as a chef and also run a small bar and then also teach gym at the school and write for a newspaper or whatever. I, for example, have been a teacher and a writer for a newspaper, and now I’m a full-time musician. But the bad thing about this is that Icelanders seem to have an urge to do everything themselves. There seems to be some sort of pride in not having to turn to other people.”

Arnalds breaks with that tradition on Innundir Skinni, a sophomore album that finds her working with two producers (David Pór Jónsson and Sigur Rós’s Kjartan Sveinsson) and a small symphony of backing musicians. The collaboration produced one of the critically adored albums you probably never heard in 2010, its songs striking an improbable balance between dramatic chamber pop and stripped-to-the-bone folk. What’s cool is that this dichotomy is often explored within the same song; witness the way that “Vinur Minn” starts out with nothing but monochromatic guitar and voice and then gets a mid-tune injection of cinematic strings and battery-of-angels vocals.

That Arnalds chose not to go it alone should have surprised no one, especially her countrymen. Before embarking on a solo career with her plaintive folk debut, Vií° Og Vií°, the singer performed with the experimental Icelandic powerhouse múm. That helped her plant deep roots in the country’s musical community, her contacts paying dividends for Innundir Skinni, a record where notable high-profile guests include Bjí¶rk, who duets on the ghostly “Surrender”.

The busy schedules of all those involved left Arnalds with doubts about the album she was creating, this further complicated by her being pregnant during the creative process. (The album’s title translates as Under the Skin.) The stop-and-start nature of the project, she suggests, goes a long way toward explaining the record’s diversity, the songs offering up everything from solemn sung-in-Icelandic balladry (“Innundir Skinni”) to elfin Joanna Newsom–esque freak folk (“Vinkonur”).

“I was trying out a lot of things and experimenting, and also touring a lot,” Arnalds says, “so it was a great, colourful period. But now I feel a bit like pulling everything in and working more straight and having less people involved in the process and playing more of the instruments myself. That’s the direction that I’ll be taking next time.”

Which proves, one might suggest, that Arnalds is perhaps a little more like the typical Icelander than she might have led her countrymen to believe.

í“lí¶f Arnalds plays the Waldorf Hotel on Friday (April 15).