The mysterious title of Danish singer Agnes Obel’s third album, Citizen of Glass, has numerous different meanings. “The glass human theme comes from German social science, and deals with the level of privacy and surveillance any individual faces in society,” Obel explains on a promotional trip to Dublin. “If someone doesn’t have any privacy at all, they are said to be made of glass. I thought it was a beautiful and poetic concept, even though it describes a negative thing.”

Citizen of Glass sees Obel steer away from her earlier piano-based albums to create a rich soundscape incorporating unusual instrumentation. “The piano is beautiful and calming, but the way I understood the glass human is not one with a calm state of mind, but with a lot of tension and paranoia,” Obel notes. “I pushed myself out of what I normally do. The other albums are a collection of songs accumulated over years, but this time I approached the whole album thematically and used instruments I’d never played before.”

For example, Agnes plays a monophonic electronic musical instrument called a trautonium. “It was used in the soundtrack for Hitchcock’s The Birds,” she reveals. “We ordered one from a guy who had the original manuals. He managed to make two and then he stopped, because they are just so much work. They are very difficult to play and are extremely heavy and fragile, so you can’t bring them on tour, which is why they are not popular instruments these days.”

As a Danish born but Berlin based musician, Obel sees lots of differences between her native and adopted homelands. “They are far less critical in Denmark and much more enthusiastic about technology,” she says. “East Germans were used to living under surveillance. When I moved to Germany, I was shocked by how behind they are. Even my Mum was on Spotify before anyone I knew. I was 25 when I moved to Berlin. Ten years before that my parents got divorced, but this gave me and my brother this intense sense of freedom that all of Copenhagen was ours to discover. Around 2000, I fell out of love with Copenhagen somewhat, but when I went to Berlin, I got the feeling back again that I could do absolutely anything. Things felt like they were happening from beneath rather than from above.”

Agnes’ intense and beautiful music has won over an army of admirers, and listeners have deeply connected with her work. “I often heard my music has helped people who are sad and enabled them to deal with difficult things that have happened in their lives,” she says. “This makes me really happy. A woman in Denmark sent me a card saying she gave birth while listening to Philharmonics, which is amazing. I hope it helped her. I have a friend in Berlin who had a singing birth, where you sing while you give birth and so does the midwife. If you sing with someone it is a communal thing, so it can make people feel less alone.”

Obel is fascinated by how music can have such a profound and positive impact. “I am very curious about depression and music,” she says. “There has been a lot of depression in my family and I have this feeling it is easier to manage if you have an outlet for it. I haven’t been depressed to the point of sickness so far, but I certainly have a fear because I had it in my teens. I’ve seen it in my Dad and other people in my family.

“If you can use it in your music, then you are removing yourself from it. Depression is linked to a feeling that things are completely meaningless and there is no point, but there is so much hope in creativity. You’re in love with an idea and you have to make it before it disappears.”

Citizen of Glass is out on October 21. Agnes Obel plays Vicar St on December 1.